Showbiz
by antmuzak
Summary: The third instalment of the "Black Holes and Revelations" series. Healer Ophelia Pomfrey is twenty years old and on the run with the trio. After heartbreak and the loss of her child, all she can do is hope that she can help destroy Voldemort before he gets to her and her friends. Takes place during Deathly Hallows and beyond. Snape/OC, Hermione/Ron, Ginny/Harry. Enjoy!
1. Sunburn

"_**She had something to confess to**_

_**But you don**__**'**__**t have the time so**_

_**Look the other way**_

_**You will wait until it**__**'**__**s over**_

_**To reveal what you**__**'**__**d never shown her**_

_**Too little much too late "**_

_**-**__**"**__**Muscle Museum", Muse**_

**Showbiz**

**Chapter One**

Ophelia knew she would never be the same after she lost the baby- there was no denying that. When she walked, the sound of her feet against the floor was hollow and echoing. When she talked, her voice sounded defeated and hoarse. When she looked out the window at the melting snow that surrounded Hogwarts, she felt cold and numb. But she endured.

"You're becoming quite the healer," her mother commented, as Ophelia cleaned a student's wound. The hospital wing was practically brimming with children everyday. Ophelia's mother wouldn't tell her why the students were in such condition, but Ophelia had a suspicion that something about the discipline at Hogwarts was different.

"I only wish…," the matron's voice quivered, "that you could get better training. I know you don't want to hear this, but-," Ophelia shut her eyes, knowing what her mother was about to say.

"-I think it would be good for you to take that internship at Saint Mungo's."

Ophelia stood, and grabbed the bandages off the table by her patient's bed. Luckily the first year was fast asleep- with the help of a sleeping drought she'd made earlier. She dressed his wound, and looked up at her mother. Maybe a few months ago, her glare would have a sharp edge to it, but she was too exhausted for that now.

"You know my answer," she muttered, and stood. She collected her items and moved onto the next bed.

The next patient was awake- it was Neville Longbottom. He had a black eye and a large bruise on his cheek.

Ophelia tutted, and inspected his injuries with a careful eye. Poppy Pomfrey followed Ophelia to the second bed, her face still puckered with a look of determination.

"But I've taught you all I know, and you have so much potential!"

Neville seemed distracted- he didn't even look at Ophelia. She poured him a glass of sleeping drought and softly encouraged him to drink it. There wasn't much she could do for him, except allow him to drift into a safer world where no harm could reach him.

Ophelia stood once again, this time brushing her hands against her matron gown and sighing.

"There's a war going on. I can't think about my future at a time like this. Besides, I feel…I feel like I need to stay here. It's the least I can do…," Ophelia trailed off.

"I know that you're feeling guilty because you left the others, and I know that you're also feeling…a little stunned, after everything's that happened. But I just want what's best for you."

Ophelia shook her head firmly, pursing her lips.

"No," she whispered, "you don't know what I feel. You could never."

She turned back to Neville, who hadn't drunk his sleep drought. She pulled up a stool and sat by his bed.

Poppy Pomfrey knew a lost cause when she saw one, and slunk back into her office.

"Neville," Ophelia cooed, "what's happened to you? You can tell me?"

"No," Neville shook his head, "I can't."

"Is a teacher doing this to you?" Ophelia demanded. She could only imagine, "The Carrows?"

She'd heard many things about the Carrows. But within the safe haven of the hospital wing, she'd never encounter them. Them or anyone else that she wished to avoid…

"It's none of your business," Neville snapped, acting very unlike himself.

"Yes it is," Ophelia disagreed, "I'm a part of this battle too. And I care about the well being of the students."

"Then tell me what Harry's doing right now," Neville finally turned to face Ophelia, tears building in his stubborn eyes, "Why haven't we heard from him? You were with him, weren't you?"

"Y-yes I was," Ophelia blinked, "but it's been a long time since I've seen them. Harry could be anywhere."

It _had _been a long time. Today was March 9th- two months since Ophelia had turned twenty years old, and two months too long spent at Hogwarts, away from those who mattered most to her.

Neville's bruised face fell, and Ophelia knew she couldn't let him lose hope.

"It's not that simple, Neville. Dumbledore left Harry with a task, and it's very complex. Even with Hermione at his side, we can't know when he'll succeed. But I can promise you that he will. Harry is a brave man, and he knows what's at stake. Don't give up the fight."

Ophelia grabbed hold of Neville' hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

"Don't ever give up the fight."

* * *

It had been nearly two months since Severus Snape had sent his patronus to give Harry Potter the Sword of Gryffindor.

Now he sat in Dumbledore's office, looking around him at the portraits of great wizards before him. Never to be a humble man, Snape was surprised at how incompetent he felt in Albus Dumbledore's chair. He felt like a foolish child, wearing his father's baggy clothing.

Snape never spoke to the portraits- least of all to the Dumbledore himself. They intimidated him, and he liked to be alone. That's why hated this office so much- eyes were constantly on him, watching his every mistake. They all knew he was a fraud.

When Snape met with the Carrows- or any of the other staff or death eaters of the school, he met with them outside of his office. It didn't seem right- bringing his lies and deceit into Dumbledore's office. And he didn't want anyone else to see him, sitting woefully in his chair.

All he had with him on his desk was a few stacks of papers, a half-empty jar of blackberry jam, and his copy of Pride and Prejudice, which he hadn't opened since his last encounter with Ophelia.

He tried to repress all thoughts of her. He repressed his questions too. Where had she been all this time? Why had she suddenly returned to the school? Was she okay? Would she _be_ okay? Would she ever speak to him again…?

He bit his lip and closed his eyes. If he didn't see his troubles, maybe they'd disappear completely.

When that failed to work, as Snape's mind was seized by worry, he stood up, inching out of his tainted throne. Perhaps a walk would do him some good.

* * *

It was about an hour later, when Ophelia decided that she could standby idly by no longer. Her mother was tending to a patient, when Ophelia marched into the office where she slept. She grabbed a rucksack, filled it with her clothes and tossed it over her shoulder. She also changed into civilian clothes- a baggy sweater which had fit her when she'd been pregnant, and jeans.

She slunk out of the hospital wing through the back door, with one last glance around her. The sight of the injured children played with her heart strings, and she knew that she may never see her mother again. But she closed the door tightly and nodded to herself. She was making the right choice.

She walked down to the Headmaster's office. It felt wrong to think of it as Snape's office. He'd stolen it.

She stood in front of the entrance and took a deep breath. She knew what she needed to do, but it wouldn't be easy. What if Snape was in there? She couldn't bare to see him again. Besides, she didn't know the password. It was unlikely that it was still _lemon sherbet_.

Ophelia didn't see Minerva McGonagall approach her, so she jumped when the older woman spoke.

"He's not in," she said, her voice cutting through the air.

Ophelia's mouth fell open in surprise. Ophelia's former Transfiguration teacher hadn't seen her in months, and that was all she had to say to her? Especially after the rumours that had been circulating around the school about Ophelia's sudden appearance and pregnancy.

"He's at a meeting with the Carrows. I'd say you could go in and wait for him, but no one knows his password," McGonagall looked as though she might say something else, but instead she walked off, leaving Ophelia feeling hopeless.

She was so close to escaping. Snape's office was empty, but she need the password. She strained her brain, thinking hard of what it could be. Then it came to her.

She cleared her throat.

"Blackberry jam," she enunciated.

She almost smiled- something she hadn't done in a long time- when the spiral staircase revealed itself to her. Some things hadn't changed it seemed.

She marched up the stairs, and barely gave herself time to look around the office. She didn't want to see what the lair of the beast looked like.

"Phineas Nigellus," she called, looking around. She had forgotten where the portrait was.

A groan came from behind her, and Ophelia spun around.

"What is it?" the grumpy ex-Headmaster snapped.

"It's me again," Ophelia whispered, approaching the painting closer.

"Ophelia Pomfrey, is it?" Nigellus had remembered her this time, "not so pregnant anymore, are you?"

"No I'm not," Ophelia snapped, "that's kind of how that works. Now will you do something for me, or not?"

"Alright, alright," the portrait was flustered, "at least be polite about it."

"Where are they?" Ophelia demanded.

"I don't know what you're talk-,"

"Yes you do," Ophelia insisted, dropping her voice down to a quiet hiss, "where are Harry and Hermione?"

"Oh, those buffoons? The three of them are camping out in some field, nasty place in my opinion. If you ask me-"

"The three of them!" Ophelia's heart skipped a beat, "so Ron _did_ come back! Alright well tell me exactly where they are, and do it quickly!"

* * *

Ophelia landed on the smooth surface of a grass field, as she tripped and fell. She was usually a graceful apparater, but today she was in a hurry. The tent was in her view- she was so close.

"Wait a minute," she whispered to herself. She could _see _the tent. That wasn't supposed to happen. What was going on? It was unlikely that Hermione had _forgotten_ to cast the protective spells.

No…something larger was at work here.

That was when Ophelia felt someone breath on the back of her neck, and she turned around.

"Hello beautiful."

Ophelia screamed.

**A/N: Hey guys! Welcome to the third instalment in the series! I really hope you enjoyed this chapter. PLEASE review- PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! I need reviews to live haha. Anyway, new chapter up probably next week. Have a lovely holiday or winter break.**


	2. Muscle Museum

"_**She had something to confess to**_

_**But you don**__**'**__**t have the time so**_

_**Look the other way**_

_**You will wait until it**__**'**__**s over**_

_**To reveal what you**__**'**__**d never shown her**_

_**Too little much too late "**_

_**-**__**"**__**Muscle Museum", Muse**_

**Showbiz**

**Chapter Two**

"I-I," Ophelia held out of her hands in front of her, as though that might protect her.

"'Ey boys," The man snarled, "if you thought that brunette was cute, wait 'till you get a look at this one."

The man was slender, with long brown hair and thick eyeliner. He wouldn't have been so unattractive, if it weren't for his horrible smirk, and the way he was looking at her.

He stepped closer to Ophelia, but she dared not move. He made a move and Ophelia thought that he might strike her. But he merely draped something around her neck.

Cautiously looking down, Ophelia realized that she was now wearing one of Hermione's favourite scarves.

Frightened, she looked up at her captor.

"Ah," he smiled mischievously, "I thought you might be a part of our party. Why don't you join the gang?"

He pushed lightly on Ophelia's backside, urging her to join his friends.

Glaring, Ophelia looked back at the man. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, silently laughing at the girl.

"Follow us," one of the men growled. He was tall and broad-shouldered. She recognized him as Fenrir Greyback. It didn't take long to realize what was happening. But Ophelia didn't trust her offensive spell skills, so she did as she was told.

She could feel the skinny man's gaze on her back as she walked, but she held back a shudder and continued to walk.

They lead her to a thicket of trees, where more of the skinny man's companions were.

Just as Ophelia had suspected, Hermione, Ron, and Hermione were being held captive. Ophelia frowned, Hermione looked pale as could be, Ron was struggling to escape- to the amusement of his captors, but Harry looked dreadful. His face was swollen and she could hardly recognize him.

"Ophelia?!" Ron shouted in shock. Hermione gave Ron a sharp glare.

"Ooh you're not a bright one, are you," the skinny man leered, "now I know the lovely one's name."

Ophelia took a deep breath.

"No need for secrecy," she waved away the skinny man's laughter, "My name's Ophelia Pomfrey. I'm a pure blood, you can check that."

Skinny man nodded at Greyback who grunted and looked through his book of names.

"May I ask your name?" Ophelia continued, though her hands were shaking and her heart threatened to beat right out of her chest.

"Scabior," the skinny man winked at her, "and that's all you're getting out of me. Now shut your lovely mouth. Greyback?"

The werewolf nodded, though looking unimpressed.

"She's clear, though she's supposed to be at Hogwarts it says."

Scabior approached his favourite play thing, taking a piece of Ophelia's blonde hair in his hands.

"Hmm," he clicked his tongue again, "why is it that you're 'ere instead of there?"

"Because," Ophelia breathed, attempting to steady her voice, "I'm on vacation. My friends and I are on a camping trip."

"In March?" Scabior shook his head.

"I needed to get away from work," Ophelia shrugged, moving slightly so that she could escape Scabior's grasp and get the feel of his warm breath off of her face.

"Hmm, well 'ere's where your story gets a little…silly," Scabior sighed, moving closer once again, this time running a finger along her lip, "your ginger friend says 'is name is _Stan Shunpike_. Well we both know that ain't true. Girly's name is cleared- Penelope Clearwater. But…ugly face over there says 'is name is Vernon Dudley, and we certainly don't 'ave that name in our little book. So who's lying, and why?"

Ophelia remained silent. Her plan was not working the way she'd hoped.

"They're lying because they were frightened," Ophelia explained weakly, "you're very…intimidating."

Scabior inhaled her scent, closing his eyes and grinning. She'd given him the ultimate compliment. Now if she could only kick him…

She moved her foot but, eyes still closed, Scabior blocked her move. He tutted in disapproval.

"Hey boss!" Someone called as he approached, "look what I found."

The man held up a sword and Ophelia couldn't help but gasp. The sword of Gryffindor had somehow found its way to her friends.

"Oh my, now that is something fancy," Scabior commented, "and for the sound of this one's gasp, we weren't supposed to find it."

"Pass it 'ere," Scabior commanded. His companion looked reluctant to let go of the object, but he obeyed his master.

"Hmm," Scabior inspected it, "interesting. This could get me pretty penny, couldn't it darling," he looked back at Ophelia who was still trying to asses the situation and find a way to escape. Scabior had taken her wand, and she couldn't simply run. They'd kill her friends in a heartbeat.

"I w-wouldn't know," Ophelia shrugged, "we just found it."

"Sure you did," Scabior grinned, "what else did you find?"

The man who had found the sword handed over a handful of assorted objects to his boss.

Scabior tossed most of the items on the ground, stopping to pocket a few coins here and there, but he paused and opened up a newspaper, frowning.

"Lookit this!" His frowned turned a proud grin, "that girl in the picture looks an awful lot like you, girly," he pointed at Hermione, "and you're rumoured to be traveling with a Weasley boy…that'll be you, ginger. And…'arry Potter," Scabior clicked his tongue again, walking over to Harry.

Ophelia made to move, but Greyback was at her side.

"I've always liked the taste of blondes," he snarled. Ophelia made sure to stand tall, and refuse eye contact with the werewolf.

"You know…I think you might just be 'arry Potter," Scabior considered, "'Ey, lovely," he snapped his fingers at Ophelia, "pick up those glasses from the floor and bring 'em 'ere."

Hesitantly, Ophelia picked up Harry's glasses from the floor and brought them over to Scabior.

"Excellent," Scabior slapped them onto Harry's face, "well you ain't having your _prettiest _day, are you? But it's 'im alright."

"Now what?" Greyback grunted.

"_Now what?_" Scabior taunted, "Now we hit the jackpot boys! We turn these in to Malfoy, get a fortune in return, and I think I'll keep the lovely one as a little keepsake."

Ophelia felt her hands shake even more.

"Maybe you ought to bring us to the Ministry," she tried, "Harry's a wanted man."

"Tsk tsk," Scabior shook his head, "you think you can trick me, but it's not going to work, my dear. Malfoy's hosting the dark lord. If we hand over Potter, we'll never have to work another day in our lives. Hmm?"

Ophelia nodded solemnly. He was right.

"Alright, let's give the Malfoys a visit, shall we boys?"

Scabior grabbed onto Ophelia's arm with force.

"Hold on tight, my lovely."

* * *

Bellatrix Lestrange lead the foursome and their captors into the grand Malfoy Manor. Ophelia had never seen such a beautiful and terrible home.

Inside, Lucius Malfoy himself came to inspect them.

"Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger," he confirmed, "though I can't speak for this one."

He gave Bellatrix a fierce look.

"Go fetch Draco."

"Do it yourself," Bellatrix hissed, though she did as she was told, nonetheless.

"And you…," Lucius stopped when he reached Ophelia, "get your greasy hands off the girl, won't you Scabior?"

Scabior knew better than to disagree and stepped away.

"Yes, I thought I recognized you. You're Snape's girl."

Ophelia did not even let her mouth twitch. She would not speak to this man, especially not about _him_.

"You're telling me that this lovely thing is _Snape__'__s_?" Scabior's mouth fell open, "but he's such an ugly git!"

"I know," Lucius drawled, "now be quiet. Pity that you had to join up with Potter and his crew. If Snape hadn't wanted you, I know our death eaters would have made you feel…welcome."

Ophelia continued to stare past Lucius' shoulder. She saw Draco Malfoy approaching with his aunt.

Lucius turned to face his son.

"Draco, son. This is very important. We need to be _sure_ that this is Harry Potter. Can you identify him?"

Lucius gestured at Harry. Draco squinted his eyes and slowly approached his enemy.

"Take your time," Bellatrix snapped, "it's not like the Dark Lord is any hurry."

Draco glared at his aunt and inspected Harry. He paused, and turned to look at Ophelia.

She said no words, but the glance she gave him spoke for itself. She was desperate.

"I don't know," Draco turned to his father, "nearly impossible to tell."

"We can't make any decisions unless we're _sure_," Bellatrix warned.

"I know that!' Lucius spat, "Send the prisoners to the dungeon and we'll deal with this."

"Wait," Scabior spoke up.

"What is it, you imbecile?" Lucius snapped, "you can have the girl when we've sorted this out!  
"Begging your pardon, _sir_," Scabior scowled, "but there's something else."

He snapped his fingers and Greyback presented Lucius with the sword.

"Where did you get that?!" Bellatrix shrieked, "that's _mine_!"

"Well, which one of you stole that from Bellatrix?" Lucius demanded, attempting to gain his dignity back, but Bellatrix shoved him aside.

"You little brats!" She hissed, "you _will_ tell me. Potter is not to be harmed, and the blonde girl is worth too much it seems. I'll take the mudblood, and if she doesn't squeal, then the blood traiter will be next."

She grabbed onto Hermione's arm and yanked her away.

"HERMIONE!" Ron bellowed, but Scabior's men were dragging them down to the dungeon.

"Ron, _shhh_," Ophelia asked desperately of her friend, "you'll only exhaust yourself."

"Ophelia," Harry whispered, turning to his friend, "what happened? Where did you go? Where's your baby?"

Ophelia shook her head, "it doesn't matter. Not now. We need to-,"

"Wait," Harry breathed, "we're not alone."

Coming out of the darkness, three figures could be seen. Ophelia recognized them as Ollivander, a boy in Harry's year who Ophelia thought was called Dean, Luna Lovegood, and a goblin.

Before any of them could process what was happening, a house elf had appeared from thin air.

Ophelia's eyes widened and she let out a squeak of surprise.

"It's alright," Harry calmed her, "this is Dobby. He's a friend of mine. Dobby, what _are_ you doing here?"

"Dobby has come to save Harry Potter," Dobby bobbed his big head eagerly.

"S-so you can apparate out of here, can you?" Ophelia clarified. The magic of house elves was different, she remembered.

"Yes!" Dobby cried.

"Shhh!" They reprimanded their little friend.

"Alright Dobby," Ron spoke up now. He looked angry and stronger than he had when Ophelia had last seen him. Maybe he'd realized his feelings for Hermione after all, "can you meet us at the top of those stairs in thirty seconds?"

* * *

Ophelia screamed as she landed face first in the surf. She sat up and brushed the cold, wet sand off her face. Hermione and Ron were by her side, comforting each other, but Harry was toward the end of the beach.

Ophelia ran to her friend's side.

"Harry, what is it?"

Harry looked desperately to his friend. He was cradling something in his arms- Dobby. But Dobby was no longer smiling or talking.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed chapter two of Showbiz! Sorry if I got a little carried away there with Scabior and Ophelia, but he is so fun to write! He's so creepy and attractive at the same time? I don't know! Anyway, please remember to review and chapter three will be up ASAP!**


	3. Fillip

"_**She had something to confess to**_

_**But you don**__**'**__**t have the time so**_

_**Look the other way**_

_**You will wait until it**__**'**__**s over**_

_**To reveal what you**__**'**__**d never shown her**_

_**Too little much too late "**_

_**-**__**"**__**Muscle Museum", Muse**_

**Showbiz**

**Chapter Three**

Harry was solemnly silent as he laid the elf to rest. After that, he barely spoke.

Ophelia empathized with her friend, even if she had never properly met Dobby the elf. People were dying every day because of the war, and there was no near end in sight.

Ophelia wanted to comfort Harry, or perhaps help Fleur with making dinner, or Ron and Dean collect firewood, but her task was clear. Hermione, Griphook, and Ollivander were all weak and injured in some way or another.

"I remember you," Ollivander smiled through his pain, as he greeted his healer, "12 inches, unicorn hair, hawthorne wood, nice and flexible."

Ophelia tried her best not to lose her smile. She thought of herself at eleven years old- unusually tall for her age, skinny, speckled with blonde freckles, and a long blonde braid trailing down her back. She had big blue eager eyes, ready to officially become a witch. That memory was old and tainted, and it made Ophelia feel cold.

"Yes, that's right," she replied, pushing back the covers on Ollivander's bed, so she could get a better look at his wounds. He was healing at a fair pace, though his age was somewhat of a hindrance. He was weak too, and coughed in between his words. It worried Ophelia to think that such a prominent man might be nearing his end.

"I remember you," Ollivander repeated, letting out a small cough, which Ophelia could feel as she peeled back his bandages.

"You were so tall and shy," he smiled to himself, "but I could tell right away that you had potential. Hawthorne wood, good for healers, you know."

Ophelia knew. She'd researched every aspect of her wand the night after her trip to Diagon Alley. She wanted to be sure it was right for her, just like the old man had promised.

"But there's something else about hawthorne wood," the old man wheezed, "that you won't read in a book…,"

"Shhh," Ophelia commanded softly, "you need to save your strength."

But Ollivander shook his head, a stubborn look in his eyes.

"Hawthorne is a very rare wood. You cannot give a hawthorne wand to just any witch or wizard."

"I know," Ophelia's voice was losing its softness, "it's because I'm a healer."

She frowned as she inspected Ollivander's wounds. They still needed some work.

She knew how risky it could be to use magic at this point, so she cleaned the wound by hand.

"No, no," Ollivander croaked, wincing slightly as Ophelia's movements became more aggressive, "if it were that simple, I'd have given you a willow wand."

Ophelia stopped what she was doing, and looked the old man in his eyes.

"Curious, are you?" Ollivander smiled, "You see, Hawthorne is a complicated wood, for a complicated user. It is meant for an individual who has endured a great deal of pain, but has the audacity to overcome such pain and continue to help others."

Ophelia's heart was racing, but she merely let out a light laugh.

"Surely that description can't apply to every hawthorne wand…it's much too specific."

She returned to washing Ollivander's wound until she was satisfied with it. She applied a light salve to speed up the healing process, and carefully bandaged it back up.

"No…that description was meant for someone special," the old man laughed, holding back a cough, "I've heard about the great things you've been doing, Ophelia. You're a very brave girl."

"Brave?" Ophelia shook her head, "are you telling me I should have been a Gryffindor, Mr. Ollivander?"

The old man simply shook his head and smiled. He had said all he wanted to say.

"I'll back to check on you tomorrow," Ophelia put her hand on the old man's shoulder, "get some rest."

"Things will turn out alright in the end, my dear," Ollivander held Ophelia's hand in his own.

"I certainly hope so, sir."

* * *

Ophelia walked downstairs and sat herself down at the table in the quaint little kitchen of Shell Cottage. It was sweet- endearing even, with seashells hanging from the ceilings, and light sandalwood countertops. For a moment, Ophelia was a little envious of Bill and Fleur, who had such a perfect little home- an escape from the harshness of the world. But she waved it away. The Weasleys were risking a lot to house Ophelia and her friends.

Harry walked in through the kitchen door, wiping his feet on the rug. He still left a small trail of sand as he walked on the tile floor, sitting himself next to Ophelia.

"Alright?" Ophelia inquired gingerly.

"Yeah," Harry shrugged, "for now, I suppose."

They sat together in silence for some time, just appreciating each other's company.

"How's Hermione?"

"She's going to be fine," Ophelia smiled, "I promise. But the others…Ollivander and Griphook will need time. I know you don't want to stop now-"

"People are dying Ophelia…so many people…," Harry muttered.

"I know, but sometimes these things take time. If we act too quickly, we'll never get anywhere. Use this time to rest and think about what we're going to do next."

Harry was quiet again, until he abruptly spoke up.

"You lost the baby, didn't you?"

Ophelia looked past Harry, and out the window and the sand banks, and the lapping waves.

"Yes."

**A/N: I know this was a really short chapter, but sometimes we just need filler chapters haha! Thanks so much for following this story, guys! It's great to see all my readers catching up with the third story! Remember- you can always send me a message, I'd love to talk with you guys :D**

**I hope you enjoyed the information about Ophelia's wand- I based that off of the Pottermore information, so technically it's canon. Anyway, thanks again, and the next chapter will be up soon!**


	4. Falling Down

"_**She had something to confess to**_

_**But you don**__**'**__**t have the time so**_

_**Look the other way**_

_**You will wait until it**__**'**__**s over**_

_**To reveal what you**__**'**__**d never shown her**_

_**Too little much too late "**_

_**-**__**"**__**Muscle Museum", Muse**_

**Showbiz**

**Chapter Four**

**A/N: All I have to say is…please review! :)**

_Scene Continued_

"I'm sorry," Harry reached out to hold Ophelia's hand. Ophelia felt the strong urge to pull away, and close up inside. But she knew that Harry was trying to be supportive, and that was something she needed right now.

"It's my fault," Ophelia breathed carefully, treading on a poisonous subject, "I don't know what I was thinking. Being pregnant and on the run…it was never a good idea. I knew the risks, and I did it anyway. I was a fool."

"You're not a fool," Harry shook his head stubbornly, "you're one of the wisest people I know. Hermione's a genius- she's _intelligent_. But you're wise beyond your years Ophelia, and you're compassionate and brave-"

_Brave_, there was the word again, Ophelia didn't _feel_ very brave.

"-and I know that you did what you had to do. We wouldn't have gotten this far without you. I'm really sorry about what happened, but you know…you're going to have another chance at being a mother. You're still really young."

Ophelia tried to picture herself with a happy family and an easy life. It was a blurred image- particularly the man who stood beside her. For a moment it took the form of George Weasley, then possibly a Ravenclaw boy she used to date, and finally Severus Snape. _No, _that's impossible.

"Having children was never my goal. I just got caught in something I couldn't control, and suddenly I was a teenage mother," Ophelia laughed darkly, choking on her tears as they formed, "but now I'm a failed teenage mother, and I don't even know what to do anymore."

"You're not a failure," Harry assured her, "you're amazing, and we need you. So we're going to give you some space, because I know you need it, and I'm going to come up with a plan. As soon as Hermione's feeling better, we're leaving. And you can join us, and help us finish what we started, or…you can stay with Bill and Fleur. It's your choice, Ophelia."

_Right, _Ophelia thought, _my choice._

* * *

Ophelia lost track of how much time had passed since they'd arrived at Shell Cottage. She was so lost in her daily routines, that it felt like an eternity.

Every day she would check on her patients- tending to them and comforting them. She'd go for walks on the beach, enjoying the dreary coastal wind, and looking for any medicinal herbs she could collect.

Her walks were also her only time she could get alone, so she treasured them. The little cottage was getting crowed with Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ophelia, Griphook, Ollivander, Fleur, Bill, Dean, and Luna all in the same house.

The time came when, _finally_, Luna, Dean, and Ollivander left to stay at Ron's Aunt Muriel's.

Ophelia appreciated Luna's company from time to time, but the strange girl was starting to get on Ophelia's nerves.

"_Can I help you with those herbs, Ophelia?__" __Luna would chirp. She would always end her questions with Ophelia__'__s name._

"_I hear that asphodels can be used to lure nargles,__" __the younger blonde would chatter on._

_Ophelia would force herself to keep quiet, and not inform the girl that nargles didn__'__t exist. _

But it was on a dull Sunday afternoon when they were visited by surprise.

Everyone was settled in the house, drying off from a day at the beach by the small wood stove. So whoever was knocking on the door was not one of their numbers.

Bill gave everyone a sharp look which warned them to prepare for battle, as he slowly walked to the door and demanded that the visitor reveal themselves.

"My name is Remus John Lupin," the voice greeted, sounding confident and a little giddy, "I'm married to Nymphadora Tonks, and I just became a father!"

Ophelia's heart sunk, and she turned away from the others, as Remus was welcomed into their home.

"He's a beautiful baby boy!" Remus was exasperated, kneeling over to hold his knees, and breathing heavily, "and Tonks is doing fine!"

Remus was rushed with congratulations and pats on the back.

Ophelia breathed in and out. She imagined herself with a son- a little bouncing baby with blonde curls and big blue eyes like hers.

_Stop it_, she reprimanded herself, _stop living in a daydream_.

"Ophelia?" Hermione was at Ophelia' side. The girl's arm was patched up, and she still looked weak, but she was doing much better.

"Hey," Ophelia forced a smile, "let's see a picture of this son of yours, Remus."

She stood up, wobbling a little, and walked over to see the photo Remus was showing around.

The baby had Tonks' nose and her colour-changing hair, but Remus' eyes and sly smile.

Ophelia's heart swelled as she looked at such a beautiful child. She couldn't help but raise her hand to her mouth.

The friendly chatting had silenced, and Ophelia looked up to see that all eyes were on her.

"H-he's beautiful," Ophelia handed the photo back, continuing her happy facade, "give Tonks my congratulations."

"Will do," Remus looked curiously at Ophelia as he took back the picture and stored it in his pocket.

_He doesn__'__t know_, Ophelia thought, _none of them know, except Harry. It seemed as though Hermione might suspect it, but__…_

"Let's get some champagne, shall we?" Bill's voice cut through Ophelia's musings.

"I'll get it!" She offered, relieved to have an excuse to leave the scene.

She shuffled off into the kitchen and hastily collected all the champagne flutes. While Bill and Fleur lived humbly, Fleur had a few trinkets here and there that hinted at her affluent past.

Ophelia held up one of the flutes to the window where the sun shone through. The sunlight sparkled through the glass, and Ophelia admired the gold design that lined the base of the glass.

"Ophelia."

Ophelia turned to find Remus standing behind her, his hands clasped pleasantly.

"Thought you could use some help."

"Sorry," Ophelia put the glass down on the counter, "I'm just a little distracted."

"It's alright," Remus' voice became a murmur, "Harry told me what happened."

Ophelia's cheeks were aflame. _How could Harry do that? Why would he tell Remus, of all the people to tell?_

"It's alright, he didn't outright say it, but I filled in the blanks. I'm sorry, Ophelia. You would have been a wonderful mother."

"I dunno," Ophelia bit her down on her lip, "it doesn't run in the family."

Remus didn't answer, but smiled and came closer.

"I want to ask you something…did you…did you have a name for the child? Did you have any names in mind?"

Ophelia's eyes widened. It was an abrupt question, and she wasn't sure she could answer it.

"I-I didn't have a lot of time to think on it, Remus. I hardly had time to think about what I was going to do when the baby was _born_."

"You didn't have any names in mind?"

"I suppose I could have called her Poppy after my mother," Ophelia shrugged.

"And if it was a boy?"

"I…I would have called him Darcy," Ophelia realized. _Like Mr. Darcy from _Pride and Prejudice.

Remus smiled knowingly, though Ophelia was sure that he'd missed the reference.

"If it's alright with you, I'd like to use that as Teddy's middle name. He's already named after Tonks' father, and I didn't want to call him Teddy Remus Lupin, it seemed a little narcissistic. What do you think?"

"Remus…," Ophelia sighed, "I hardly know you. You don't need to name your child…after my unborn one."

"I _want_ to," Remus countered, a look of almost parental concern on his face. _Appropriate_, Ophelia thought, _it looks good on him._

"Alright, if it will make you happy," Ophelia nodded, "welcome to the world, Edward Darcy Lupin."

**A/N: This chapter wasn't super long either, I know. But I wanted to make a sort of reflective chapter on Ophelia's relationship with her child, and her thoughts on what could have been. I know that, in canon, Teddy's middle name was 'Remus', but I thought this could be a nice touch.**

**The next chapter will be up soon, and we're getting into the plot very soon!**

**Also shout out to new reader Miss Mae- I hope you enjoyed this chapter!**


	5. Cave

"_**She had something to confess to**_

_**But you don**__**'**__**t have the time so**_

_**Look the other way**_

_**You will wait until it**__**'**__**s over**_

_**To reveal what you**__**'**__**d never shown her**_

_**Too little much too late "**_

_**-**__**"**__**Muscle Museum", Muse**_

**Showbiz**

**Chapter Five**

**A/N: Hello my lovely readers! I just wanted to thank you all so much for your constant support and feedback! If you EVER want to talk, I'd love to! Send me a PM! Seriously, do it! Shout out to Nat King for her awesome drawing of Ophelia as Elizabeth Bennet from Pride and Prejudice! :D It's so cool!**

"Harry, I've had enough," Ophelia said suddenly one morning, a few weeks after Remus' visit.

"Hmm?" Harry rubbed at his eyes. He'd had a long night, Ophelia could see. Maybe his thoughts were haunting him too. Ophelia had given up on restful sleep a long time ago.

"I can't stay here any longer. I'm starting to get cabin fever," Ophelia had made herself some toast with marmalade, not blackberry jam.

Harry, still looking rather dazed, reached out to pick up a piece of Ophelia's toast and nibble on it.

She smacked his arm. Sometimes Harry and Ron felt like the little brothers she never had.

"You told me you were planning something. I want in on it."

Harry swallowed sharply, wincing.

"We'll need to go somewhere private," he decided, "I can't risk anyone overhearing."

Ophelia nodded and slipped on one of Bill's sweaters that she'd been borrowing. It was oversized and baggy, just how she liked it.

Harry and Ophelia walked out the kitchen door, making sure that no one had seen them.

Ophelia's feet sunk into the dry sand, and dug trenches as they strolled along the seaside.

"I love the ocean," Harry said. He sounded more awake, but just as distant. Ophelia understood that.

"Me too," she agreed, "I haven't been in such a long time."

Ophelia thought about the night she'd lost her child. She'd dreamt that she was sitting on a cliff above the ocean, with Dumbledore…

Then she'd fallen to her death. _What did it mean? _

"Listen…I want to break into Gringotts."

Ophelia's dark blue eyes widened in surprise.

"How's that for a plan, eh?" Harry surprised his companion with a smile.

"You think you can find a horcrux there?" Ophelia pressed.

"Yes, in Bellatrix's vault. But it's going to be very complicated, as you can imagine."

"You've talked to Griphook?"

Ophelia directed Harry to the edge of the surf. She bent down to pick up a piece of drift wood. She ran her fingertips across the rough surface.

"Yes, he's willing to help us. For a price."

"The sword?" Ophelia guessed. Harry had filled her in on what had happened while she was gone. She too wondered who had the little doe as a patronus. It was curious.

"Yes. Don't worry, I don't plan on giving it to him. At least, not until I figure things out. But there's more to the plan."

"You've been brewing Polyjuice Potion," Ophelia nodded knowingly. She tossed the driftwood into the sea, with all her might.

"How'd you know?" Harry looked taken aback. Ophelia smiled softly to herself.

"You should know better, Harry. I can identify potions by their smell."

"Oh, right," Harry was puzzled, "well, anyway…you and Hermione will have to transform."

"What about you and Ron?"

"Griphook and I will be under the invisibility cloak. Hermione's going to turn into Bellatrix, you into Narcissa, and we'll disguise Ron as a death eater of some kind. We're going to have to rely on your acting skills to get into the vault. From there-,"

"Wait," Ophelia exhaled sharply, "you want me to pretend to be Narcissa Malfoy?"

She picture the tall, elegant blonde and nearly blushed, in spite of herself. Narcissa was so gorgeous and poised, while Ophelia tripped over her own feet and felt awkward in a dress. Narcissa was also married to Lucius Malfoy. She nearly shuddered, imagining what that would be like. She remembered Lucius's dark gaze following her around at Malfoy Manor.

"You can do it," Harry assured her, "you won't even have to speak, if all goes as planned. Hermione will do all the talking."

Ophelia nodded, though she was still nervous.

"Once we're in, we'll put our guide under the Imperius curse. From there, Griphook will help us get past all the traps and spells. We'll get into the vault, grab _whatever_ the Horcrux is, and get out of there."

"You make it sound so simple," Ophelia teased the tide, reaching her foot out to greet the water, and pulling back just in time.

"I know," Harry laughed, sounding almost bitter, "but it's our only choice. You're right, we can't stay here any longer."

Ophelia remained silent.

"The potion will be ready by tomorrow. Do you think you'll be ready?"

"Yeah," Ophelia's voice was firm, "As ready as I'll ever be."

* * *

That night, Ophelia shuffled into Hermione's room, and carefully closed the door. She wouldn't sleep that night, and she didn't want to be left alone with her thoughts.

She was hoping that Hermione would be asleep, but the girl was sitting up in her bed, her reading lamp on. She had a copy of a book on horcruxes in her lap.

"Hey," Hermione greeted mildly, with a warm smile. The two girls hadn't talked in a while.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you. I just…"

"Didn't want to be alone?" Hermione guessed, "me neither."

Hermione patted her duvet cover, gesturing for Ophelia to join her.

Ophelia sat down and looked her friend sincerely in the eyes. Before she could understand what was happening, her lower lip began to quiver, and tears spilled out of her eyes.

"Shhh," Hermione comforted her older friend, patting her back, "it's okay."

"No it's not," Ophelia choked, "how can it be? Everything that could go wrong, _has_ gone wrong. I lived my whole life keeping people out. I let my guard down just _once_, because I think it might make me happy…and I get my heart broken. Then I'm left pregnant and alone."

"I was scared, Hermione. Maybe I didn't talk about it enough, but I was scared. I was only nineteen years old, I didn't know how to be pregnant, and I didn't know how to keep it together. Then I lose the one thing that I had to look forward to, and it's all my fault. Now I'm with you guys again, looking at a bleak future. I probably won't make it much further."

Hermione sympathized with Ophelia, but she kept quiet.

"_Why_ did he do that to me, Hermione?" Ophelia's face was saturated with grief and betrayal, "Why would he seem one way, and then suddenly be someone _completely different_? Is it wrong that I still miss him? I mean, if I got to see him again, I'd rip his head off. But…I miss what we had. I miss cuddling with him in his bed. I miss reading with him, I miss learning from him. I miss…"

_I miss writing secret notes to him. I miss feeling happy and alive. I miss understanding myself through him, _Ophelia thought to herself.

"I miss it all," she whispered, "even the lies. Because at least I was protected from the truth."

"I know," Hermione said, and pulled her friend into a tight embrace, "I know."

Ophelia wasn't sure that Hermione really _did_ know. But she appreciate the gesture, nonetheless.

They fell asleep next to each other, tears staining their impressionable faces.

* * *

"I think we should at least say goodbye," Hermione argued, looking to Ron for support, "after all they've done for us…"

"But Hermione," Harry argued, "we can't let them know what's going on."

"It doesn't matter," Ophelia spoke up, "they know we're leaving. They've known for some time. If we can't give them an explanation, we at least owe them a goodbye."

Although they didn't all agree, the foursome were too tired and restless to argue.

Fleur gave them all wet kisses and muttered quickly in French.

Ophelia understood the language well enough to know that the girl was praying for their safety and return.

"Wait, Ophelia," Bill pulled her aside, "I have messages from my parents."

Ophelia's ears perked up. She hadn't talked to the Weasleys in so long. She found herself missing Mrs. Weasley's motherly concern, and Arthur Weasley's eccentricity.

"I told my mother what happened. With your baby, I mean," Bill said awkwardly, "she's distraught. She sends her love."

Ophelia nodded, "I send mine back."

"And my father…," Bill reach behind him to put a parcel in Ophelia's hands, "said to give you this."

Ophelia unwrapped the parcel. It was a book of a substantial size, cloth-bound.

_Sense and Sensibility_, it read,_ by Jane Austen_.

"He said it was by the same Muggle author of a different book you were reading," the read head shrugged, "it's a gift."

Ophelia smiled, running her hands across the cover.

"Thanks Bill. I'm going to enjoy this."

"Well," Harry spoke up, and all eyes turned to him, "let's get going, shall we?"

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this! It's the last of the short/uneventful chapters- I promise! The Battle of Hogwarts is coming up, guys! How excited are you? Please review! And feel free to suggest _anything_ or send me messages, as I mentioned.**

**Also, in response to user Jordan Lynn 7, "Teddy" is usually short for Theodore. However, on the HP Wiki site, it says that both Ted Tonks, and Teddy Lupin are Edwards.**


	6. Showbiz

"_**She had something to confess to**_

_**But you don**__**'**__**t have the time so**_

_**Look the other way**_

_**You will wait until it**__**'**__**s over**_

_**To reveal what you**__**'**__**d never shown her**_

_**Too little much too late "**_

_**-**__**"**__**Muscle Museum", Muse**_

**Showbiz**

**Chapter Six**

**A/N: Hey guys! This is a real update this time! Thanks to everyone who got on board with the Valentine's Day special edition story! For those of you who didn't PM me in time, you will still have a chance to read the story in the future, don't worry! For now, please enjoy and review!**

Ophelia felt uncomfortable in the deep green dress she wore. It wasn't like her pine-dress- the one she'd worn to the Christmas party, and Dumbledore's funeral…

No, this dress was snug-fitting and the neckline was a little too low for Ophelia's taste. But it looked exactly like something Narcissa Malfoy would wear, and that was all that mattered.

"Hermione, let me look at you," Ophelia demanded. Her friend was probably feeling just as foolish as she did, and refused to leave her room just yet.

Ophelia knocked on the pale wood of the door, reinforcing her request. They were running out of time.

"It can't be that bad!"

Ophelia heard a whimper through the door, and raised her eyebrows as Hermione stomped out of her room.

While Narcissa Malfoy mixed seductive with classy, Bellatrix Lestrange was a whole different situation.

Hermione's hair was frizzy and dark, her lips full, and her eyelids heavy. A look of embarrassment did not fit Bellatrix's maniacal face.

"We have to get this over with," Ophelia squeezed her hand's friend.

It felt strange knowing that they were pretending to be two sisters. Hermione had always felt like a sister to Ophelia. A younger, smarter, bossier sister.

"Alright," Hermione took Ophelia's hand, and they paraded down the stairs.

Their goodbye party had departed, leaving them to go about their business. Ophelia still had her copy of _Sense and Sensibility_ in her possession, but all their rucksacks had been stowed in Hermione's bag. They had to pack lightly.

Harry, who was under his invisibility cloak, with Griphook on his shoulders, and Ron, who was sporting some ridiculous facial hair, were waiting for them on the sand dunes.

They took each others hands, and Harry's firm voice counted them down.

"On the count of three…one…two…three!"

* * *

Gringotts was different this time. Ophelia had made just as many trips to the Wizard Bank as the others, but she could immediately sense a different energy.

The goblins had always been angry, isolated creatures who kept to themselves. But it seemed that the war had affected them too.

"Miss Lestrange, Mrs. Malfoy," one goblin inclined his head in greeting. Narcissa Malfoy was much shorter than Ophelia was, but Ophelia still felt taller than she'd ever before. She felt important.

"We wish to enter my vault," Hermione drawled, using her best Bellatrix imitation. She sounded both sharp and aloof. Ophelia kept her mouth shut, and refused to meet anyone's eyes.

"All three of you?" the goblin did not directly challenge Hermione, but he sounded suspicious.

"This is my sister, and a dear friend of mine," Hermione waved her hand in dismissal of the goblin's concern, "I'm sure that you will find a way to trust my judgement."

There was a hint of a snarl in her voice that seemed so foreign, coming from Hermione's lips.

"Identification?" The goblin requested cooly. They didn't want to challenge such an intimidating witch, but they were not as compliant as they'd expected.

Ophelia looked to where she knew Harry and Griphook to be standing. She wasn't sure what to say, but with the subtlest move of her head, she hoped that they'd understand that their help was needed.

"Identification?" Hermione nearly spat, "I've never been asked for that? Can't you see who I am?"

Hermione was confident in her portrayal of Bellatrix, but Ophelia began to hear her voice quiver.

"Perhaps your wand will be sufficient identification?" Ophelia spoke up, making sure her voice was level but indifferent.

Harry must have aided her suggestion with the Imperius Curse, because the goblin muttered something of a reluctant agreement and took Hermione's wand from her.

Luckily, the wand Hermione possessed _was_ Bellatrix's wand. But Ophelia had her own wand, not Narcissa's, so she feared for the moment she was asked to hers up. Harry could only help them so much before they were caught.

The goblin hesitated, and Ophelia felt her heart hopping around in an anxious frenzy.

"Alright, Miss Lestrange…and company," the goblin gave each member of their party a pointed look, "a guide will accompany you."

* * *

Bellatrix Lestrange's vault was magnificent. Ophelia had never seen so many possessions belonging to one individual.

Golden goblets, a plethora of different coloured coins, and hundreds of strings of pearls, rubies, and diamonds, lined the floor, piling up to the ceiling.

"How are we going to do this?" Ron nearly squeaked. The tall red-head was nearly shaking. After their fall, their disguises had left them, leaving them looking like the frightened children they really were.

Ophelia squeezed a handful of her hair, wringing out the water.

"Hermione?" Everyone turned to face the brilliant brunette.

"Well…," Hermione looked around the room, considering her options, "Harry you can hear the horcruxes, can't you? So I suppose you ought to just…listen."

The plan seemed much too simple, but they didn't have any other idea.

"Meanwhile, we," Hermione gestured to herself, Ron, and Ophelia, "will search on our own. We're looking for a chalice of some kind. It belonged to Helga Hufflepuff…so there may be some sort of insignia on it."

Ophelia nodded, and began her search.

She gently nudged a pile of coins from her feet, when she heard Hermione's screech.

It was in Ophelia's nature to be alert for signs of patients in distress, so she whipped around to face her friend.

Hermione was shaking her hand which was red and blistered.

"It burnt me!" she cried.

Griphook, their goblin companion, chuckled darkly.

"Of course it did. They've cursed the place. Looks like the Gemino and Flagrante curses."

Hermione looked to her feet, to find several silver hair combs.

"They multiply when you touch them," she whispered in realization, "we have to be careful what we touch…or we could suffocate in here."

Ron had heard her warning, and stepped back an inch from the nearest pile of treasures.

Harry, meanwhile, stood still, looking troubled.

Ophelia took Hermione's hand in her own and soothed it with a soft muttering of a spell. That was all she could do, without the proper time or resources.

Harry cleared his throat and spoke up.

"There's another problem…if we touch the cup…we won't know which one is the real one."

The four shared a look of panic, but Griphook grunted. He was not concerned.

Searching for something they'd never seen, in a pile of dangerous objects that multiplied when touched, was nearly impossible.

Ophelia winced and held back a shout, as her hip brushed by a tall golden-framed mirror. For a moment, it was only a simple stinging, then her body recognized the pain, and her legs buckled. She fell to the floor and let out a strangled choking noise.

"I can see it!" Harry's triumphant roar seemed miles away. The hoards of treasure were multiplying at a rapid speed, and Ophelia could no longer spot her friends. She thought she saw Hermione's hair from behind a stack of coins.

The mirror that had wounded Ophelia popped out several copies, clanging against Ophelia's skin and burning her.

"Merlin that hurts!" She screamed, and danced away. There was almost no free space.

"Harry! Hurry!" Ron shouted, as he battled against a wobbling wall of porcelain plates.

"I can almost reach it!" Ophelia could see Harry now. He was atop the largest pile of treasure, which was consuming the room.

A way of treasure rushed across to Ophelia, knocking her off her feet. She, Hermione, and Ron were struggling to get out of the mass, but they were stuck.

Harry took the sword of Gryffindor in his hand, and reached up, pulling the cup down into his grasp.

* * *

"You've got to be kidding me," Ophelia whispered, as she watched her friends throw themselves onto a fully-grown dragon.

The beast was magnificent, in a way that chilled you and sent shivers up your spine.

"We've got no choice," Hermione cried, always the reasonable one.

Ophelia nodded firmly. After all that had happened lately, why _not_ launch herself onto a wild dragon?

With a daring leap, she landed across the creature's back, sliding in next to Ron. Without a harness or anything to hold onto, Ophelia felt as though she might tumble off.

"Hold tight!" Harry cried, as the beast lumbered from his resting spot, and prepared to take flight.

The dragon shook his body, and Ophelia held so tightly, she felt her hands become slick with blood and broken blisters.

In no time, they were flying over London, and into the English countryside.

"We're going to drop!" Ophelia realized. The dragon was lowering its body as they flew over a lake.

"We're going to have to jump," Harry told them. They silently agreed. The prospect of diving into the chilling English waters was not appealing, but neither was being dragged down with the creature, and possibly drawing.

"One…two…three!"

* * *

They'd swum across a formidable expanse of water, until they'd reach the nearest bank. Clawing at the sand, and dragging their bodies onto the grass, they collapsed in exhaustion.

The girls and boys separated and changed into drier clothing.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were having a hushed discussion by the beach. Ophelia had kept her distance. She didn't want to see her.

She was dressed in a grungy pair of her overalls, which cut short and beard her skinny, pale legs. Her legs were lined with scratches, bruises, and blisters.

Her hair was tossed atop her head in a messy bun, and her face was smudged with wet sand here and there. But it was not the dishevelment of her appearance that Ophelia was concerned about.

When Ophelia tugged up her shirt, and pulled down the side of her overalls, she could see the wound that she'd sustained from the mirrors in Bellatrix's vault.

Ophelia had done her best to heal her friend's burns. They would be sore, and possibly leave scars, but they would endure.

Ophelia, meanwhile, was wary of her own condition. The wound ran across her side, reaching from her ribs to her thigh. It was soft to the touch, not having blistered over yet. When she gently ran a finger along it, tears pooled in her eyes.

If she tried to take a step, she could feel the pain all across her body.

"That's going to be a problem," she whispered to herself.

**Hey guys, sorry if I skipped some parts you would have liked to read. I'm trying not to just retell the story. We all know what happens. I'm here to tell Ophelia's story, not just retell the Harry Potter books :P Any suggestions/feedback would be amazing, especially in review form. New chapter up soon! Thanks!**


	7. Unintended

"_**She had something to confess to**_

_**But you don**__**'**__**t have the time so**_

_**Look the other way**_

_**You will wait until it**__**'**__**s over**_

_**To reveal what you**__**'**__**d never shown her**_

_**Too little much too late "**_

_**-**__**"**__**Muscle Museum", Muse**_

**Showbiz**

**Chapter Seven**

**A/N: Wow, I am so sorry about the wait! I have been so busy with exams and essays as I come to the end of my first year of university! It's been crazy, but you guys have all been so patient and lovely so I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

Ophelia made sure not to draw attention to her pain as she and her friends apparated into Hogsmeade village.

She'd covered her injury up and put on a brave face, careful not to grimace as she took ginger steps along the pavement.

"We have to be quiet," Ophelia whispered, "last time I was here…there's a curfew which is enforced by a caterwauling charm."

But before they could make a plan, they heard footsteps in the distance, and the alarm went off.

"That's it!" Ophelia remembered the loud ringing in her ears, from when she'd last visited the village. Back then, she'd wanted nothing more than to visit her mother. She'd held her arms up in surrender to the death eater guards. But this time, they could not afford to be seen.

"Where do we go?" Harry hissed, as they darted behind a building. They could not hide there for long.

"I don't know, I don't know," Hermione's words were hurried and nervous.

They could hear the sounds of the death eaters, taunting them.

"We know you're out there, Potter…"

It was like they were easing out a naughty pet from a hiding spot.

Ophelia and her friends were desperate. There was nowhere to go. The death eaters had charmed the village so they couldn't disapparate, and there was no way they could leave by foot without getting caught.

Ophelia was beginning to think that this would be her terrible end, when she heard a hissing sound from behind her.

They turned their shoulders to see a figure in the dark; indistinguishable but certainly not a death eater.

"In here!" The figure beckoned. The door he was behind was creaked open just slightly. The sliver of light was promising.

Harry had a look of uncertainty on his face, but he knew better than to overthink this decision. It was either this stranger, or the death eaters.

The four wizards softly ran across the pavement to the door, slinking in past the stooping figure. Ophelia didn't get a good look at the man, as he muttered, urging them to go up the staircase. However, she thought she saw familiar blue eyes and a long beard. A chill ran up her spine.

The man had them sit down in bar stools around a fireplace. It was a homey room with high ceilings, ancient-looking wooden floorboards, and a sturdy brick fireplace.

The old man who'd come to their aid didn't say a word until he'd taken the kettle off the fire, and serving them each a hearty mug of tea.

Ophelia sipped cautiously at hers. She didn't have the tolerance for heat that some people did…

Hermione, however, refused to let the cup meet her lips. She studied the room intently, with her intelligent-Hermione gaze.

"You're Aberforth," Harry said matter-of-factly to their host. That's when it made sense to Ophelia.

The man was familiar, because he was related to their beloved and late Albus Dumbledore.

"His brother," Aberforth nodded in gruff confirmation. His voice did not have the warmth that Dumbledore's had, but he still did not come across as an enemy.

"What do you think you're doing, boy?" Aberforth took no time to dawdle. His eyes showed intent. He had much to say to Harry, "coming to Hogwarts at a time like this?"

It was Hermione who spoke up, eager to contribute to the conversation.

"We have something very important to do. We mean you know inconvenience, we just really need to-"

"What could you possibly need to do that was so important that you had to risk your own lives like this?" Still, the man did not sound cruel. Though he was impatient and frustrated, Ophelia could tell from the hoarseness in his voice.

* * *

Harry and Aberforth argued for a good hour. Ophelia felt awkward as an outsider. This was her journey too, but she left it up to Harry to defend her and her friends. She knew Aberforth wasn't a threat. He was concerned for them, and there were unsettled emotions that Harry unearthed for him. There was clearly a bitterness as well as a sadness when it came to loss of Aberforth's brother.

With their argument going nowhere, and with Harry's anger growing, Harry stood from his stool, kicking it over. He stormed into the back room, and Hermione and Ron hastily followed him.

Ophelia, however, stayed put.

Aberforth had his weary head in his hands, massaging his temples.

Ophelia stood, brushed her hands lightly against her overalls. She held back a groan as her feet touched the ground. _I__'__ll be okay_, she insisted, _there are others who need help more than I do._

She crossed the room with feeble steps, to the fire place. She scooped the kettle up, and walked to the small sink that protruded from the wall. It was an old sink with a rusted faucet. She filled the kettle with water, and placed it back on the fire.

Aberforth, hearing Ophelia's movements, lifted his head. He watched her in curiosity, but Ophelia did not meet his gaze. She merely waited patiently for the water to boil. She could faintly hear her friends arguing from behind the bedroom door, but she blocked them out. _Concentrate, _she reprimanded herself.

The kettle went off, and Ophelia subdued it. She took Aberforth's mug from beside his chair. She dumped the old tea out, and poured the hot water into the mug.

She took the mug over to the coffee table, kneeled down and began her ministrations.

From her pocket, she took out a few herbs and things she always kept with her, and mixed it into the mug.

"What are you doing?" Aberforth finally demanded, looking at her like she was mad.

Ophelia scooped the mug up and placed it in the man's aging hands.

"Drink," she commanded in a firm but soft voice.

Aberforth sniffed at the drink and wiggled his nose in doubt.

"Do it," she added, this time less gentle.

The man took a gulp of the drink and looked expectantly at Ophelia.

"What is it?"

"Hot water, a little bit of ginger, honey, dandelions, and lemon," Ophelia shrugged, "It will soothe your throat. I can hear a throat infection from a mile away."

Ophelia's sternness melted away; she couldn't help but smile at a patient.

Aberforth took another sip, though he knit his wooly eyebrows.

He set his mug down when he'd finished.

"Thank you, my dear," he didn't smile, but his eyes glittered like Ophelia had seen Dumbledore do.

"Were you acquainted with my brother?"

"Not much," Ophelia admitted, "I attended his school, then spent a year under his employ. He was a good man."

Aberforth raised his eyebrow.

"You didn't know him, but you call him a good man. Curious."

He was sarcastic, but Ophelia did not care.

"He was a good man to his students. He was good to me. I did not know Albus the way you knew him, Aberforth. Of course I didn't! He was your brother! I understand that family is complicated…my mother and I haven't spoken for quite some time," her face almost fell as she thought of the poor woman, not knowing where her daughter was in the world, "and that I regret. But there were times when I hated my mother. I truly did. No one knows you like your family."

Aberforth nodded in silent agreement.

"Harry is only trying to do what's best for the world. He might seem a little hot-headed, but you will not meet a more compassionate young man in all your years. He cares about the people he loves. He's not trying for glory or fame. He already has all that. He's also stubborn as hell," Ophelia added with a chuckle, "so he's going to do what he's set out to do, no matter what you say."

"I know that," Aberforth sighed, and eased himself out of his chair, "I knew that the moment I met him. Harry Potter is a special man. But so are you…?"

"Ophelia," Ophelia provided, "Ophelia Pomfrey."

"You are special too," Aberforth smiled for the first time since they'd met, "you remind me so much of…our little sister Arianna. She was blonde like you, a gentle soul. She died young, but…I'd like to think she would have been like you."

"I'm sorry," Ophelia shuffled her feet, "and thank you, that means a lot."

Just as Aberforth and Ophelia were sharing their tender moment, Ron shouldered the bedroom door open. Hermione lead the way, and Harry followed. He still looked stressed, though not as angry. Ophelia could always count on Hermione being the voice of reason, and Ron being a good supportive friend.

"Aberforth-," Harry began.

"No, boy. Let me speak," Aberforth's voice was still rough, but he didn't seem to be in as much pain as he spoke.

At first, all parties were quiet and there was tension in the air. Ophelia worried that maybe she hadn't gotten across to the man like she'd thought.

"I don't understand what mad quest my brother has sent you on, and I don't think you do either. But I think you have good intentions, and I suppose he did too. So I will help you get into the castle, but that is as far as I will go. Do you understand?"

Aberforth and Ophelia looked at each other. _Thank you_, she thought, _thank you for saving us and the wizarding world. You will understand soon enough._

"For that I am grateful," Harry nodded. He sounded mature beyond his years, and Ophelia couldn't help but smile. She was proud of her dear friend. Hermione too, and even Ron. They'd been through so much already, but there was so much more to go.

"Follow me," Aberforth lead them across the room to a painting.

The painting was of a young girl- maybe nine years old. She has pale blonde hair, and cornflower eyes. She had a pretty blue petticoat, and she smiled and folded her hands pleasantly as she greeted them.

_That__'__s Arianna_, Ophelia recognized immediately. _What a lovely little girl she was_.

"Aye, you know what to do," Aberforth nodded at his beloved little sister. She smiled a mischievous little smile, like she'd been caught playing in the mud, and turned around. With a little skip, she'd disappeared down her dirt path.

"Where's she gone?" Ron wondered aloud, and Ophelia couldn't help but be curious too. She felt connected to the little girl, somehow.

When Arianna returned, she had brought a friend with her.

"Neville?!"

**A/N: There you go! I hope you enjoyed this! Isn't Ophelia such a good little healer? And so good with people too. Gah, I love her. Anyway, if you enjoyed it PLEASE REVIEW! I LOVE reviews! A new action-packed chapter is to follow ASAP!**


	8. Uno

"_**She had something to confess to**_

_**But you don**__**'**__**t have the time so**_

_**Look the other way**_

_**You will wait until it**__**'**__**s over**_

_**To reveal what you**__**'**__**d never shown her**_

_**Too little much too late "**_

_**-**__**"**__**Muscle Museum", Muse**_

**Showbiz**

**Chapter Eight**

**A/N: Well here we are! Almost at chapter ten! This is going to be a really good chapter, I can feel it! And the next chapter…Ophelia and Snape will speak to one another. Please please please review to show your support!**

"Hey guys…Harry, Hermione, Ron…Ophelia," Neville greeted each of his friends with a shining grin. He seemed much more spirited since Ophelia had seen him last.

"There's a tunnel through this painting that will get you into the castle," Aberforth enlightened.

"This is where I leave you," he added, glancing at Harry, then Ophelia, "best of luck."

There were no words left to say, so Harry merely nodded his head firmly, and stepped through the frame. Nettle helped the others through, and Ophelia tried her best not to wince as she landed on her feet.

"Where does the tunnel lead?" Hermione whispered. Ophelia noticed that as she walked closely next to Ron, she brushed against his side.

"The room of requirement, of course," Neville illuminated his wand, and the others followed suit. The tunnel was long, winding, and dark. Ophelia couldn't get the smell of dampness out of her nose.

"A group of us…well quite a few of us actually, have been hanging out there," Neville explained as they neared their destination.

"Hanging out?" Ron asked.

"Things are different at Hogwarts," Neville exchanged a look with Ophelia, "it's not safe anymore. Those of us who were brave enough- members of the DA, and others- decided we'd had enough. We've been sort of living out of the room of requirement. It provides us with everything we need- you'll see."

After walking for a good ten minutes, the passage ascended, and a door appeared.

Neville held it open for his friends, and closed the door behind them as the entered the room of requirement.

It had been some time before Ophelia had entered the room- only for Dumbledore's Army, mind you- but it had never presented to her like this.

Large, deep cots hung from the ceilings. Various Hogwarts students of all ages slept, rested, and even studied in these makeshift beds.

On the floor, there was one long table, like a table from the Great Hall. However, there was no separation of the houses at this table. A little Gryffindor first year was feasting with a third year Ravenclaw, and a sixth year Hufflepuff prefect. There were even a few Slytherins present.

The table didn't have a _lot_ of food to decorate it. But it seemed as though the students had managed to steal what they could from the kitchens- wheels of cheese, plates of cold meats, and a flagon of pumpkin juice.

Ophelia's stomach rumbled, as she remembered how hungry she was. She was a lot less conscious of her eating habits, now that she wasn't eating for two.

"Oi! Look who's here!" Neville shouted, a proud grin on his face.

Everyone looked up, and gasped as they spotted the golden trio and Ophelia.

"HARRY!"

"_Potter?!__"_

"Ron, mate!"

"Hermione?"

"Is that Ophelia Pomfrey?"

In response to their appearance, there were both whispers and shrieks. Most were overjoyed to see the return of their heroes and leaders. Some were confused, or unsure as to why they'd shown up just now, and where they'd been all along.

Of course, many were confused as to why the ex-healer of Hogwarts was at their side. The last time Hogwarts had seen Ophelia, she'd been miserable and pregnant.

Harry held up his hand, both to greet his friends, and silence their shouts and questions.

"It's great to see you all again," Harry's smile watched Neville's, "this is amazing. It truly is."

"So what's the plan?" Seamus Finnigan shouted out. The Gryffindor had a bruised face, but he, among many others, looked eager to fight.

Ophelia looked to Harry, a feeling of unsettlement in her stomach that wasn't just hunger. How would they explain to all these people what they'd set out to do? What they planned to next? They didn't necessarily have a plan!

"Plan?" Harry looked uncertainly at the crowd of people surrounding him. Some were friends, some were strangers. But they all looked to Harry for guidance now.

"Well there's something we- that is, _us_," Harry gestured to Hermione, Ron, Ophelia, and himself, "have to do, and then we'll leave."

Everyone was silent, and looking around at each other.

"What do you mean?" Someone hollered from the back of the crowd.

"Well we haven't come to stay," Harry explained, "we're just here to find something, and then we'll be leaving."

"What are you here to find?" Another voice inquired.

"I can't tell you…," Harry's voice grew solemn.

"Why not?" Neville faced his friend, frowning, "you don't trust us?"

"It's not that!" Harry insisted, "it's just that Dumbledore's left us a job to do, and it's very important that we do it!"

"Well we're Dumbledore's Army," Neville gestured at everyone around him.

"I know!" Harry sighed, "Neville I mean no disrespect, but this is something that-"

"Everyone here is loyal to you!" Neville protested, "We can help you, Harry."

Before Harry could reply, the passageway door was opened again, and Luna Lovegood and Dean Thomas greeted their friends.

"Luna?" Harry raised his eyebrows.

"And that's not everyone!" Luna said in a singsong voice.

Ginny Weasley stepped through the door, followed by her twin brothers.

Harry's eyes lit up like candles as Ginny entered the room, but they merely shared a small smile.

"Looking good, Pomfrey," George Weasley winked at Ophelia, "still single?"

Ophelia rolled her eyes, not bothering to dignify him with an answer. But her heart soared as so many of their old friends filled the room.

"What's the plan, Harry?" Fred wondered.

"There is no plan!" Harry repeated, flustered from Ginny's arrival, but still stubbornly against sharing his plan with his friends.

"Harry," Ophelia gently placed a hand on her friend's shoulder, "maybe we could use their help. You know…finding what we came to find?"

Hermione nodded in support of Ophelia's idea.

"Fine," Harry sighed in defeat, "we're looking for…an object. It's very important that we find it. It's hidden somewhere in the castle."

There was a moment of silence.

"Well what is it?" Parvati Patil prompted.

"It's some sort of…important object," Harry faltered, looking for a way to explain it, "something that might have belonged to Ravenclaw. Something with an eagle on it, maybe?"

Most people looked uncertain and doubtful of Harry's description, except for Luna who sat up.

"There's the lost diadem of Ravenclaw," she piped up, "that could be it."

"Yeah but it's _lost_," Cho Chang pointed out, "and has been for a very long time. Centuries, they say."

"But I think we could find it, Harry," Luna's squeaky voice disagreed with her housemate.

Harry bit his lip and turned to Ron, Hermione, and Ophelia.

"I know it's not much to go off of," he admitted sheepishly, "but I think I'm going to go with Luna. If there's any chance I can find it-"

"We understand, mate," Ron nodded. Hermione and Ophelia gave Harry reassuring smiles.

"I'll be back soon," Harry promised to everyone, those his eyes wandered to Ginny, as Luna lead him out of the room.

There was silence for a time, as people whispered and paced.

"Alright everyone!" Hermione shouted, suddenly taking command of the room.

"While Harry's gone, I think we should take advantage of this time we have."

Hermione turned to Ron and Ophelia at her sides.

"We didn't plan on staying at Hogwarts, but it might come to that. We might have to fight."

Everyone nodded solemnly.

"We're going to use this time to train," Hermione was assertive but calm, "I know all of you have been training and practicing, just like in Dumbledore's Army, but it never hurts to touch up on it, and we have some new untrained members too. Neville and I will be teaching everyone defensive spells over by the fireplace. Ron and Ginny will teach offensive spells over here," Hermione pointed to where she stood.

"And if we clear off the table," Ophelia spoke up, suddenly inspired, "I can lead a session on healing. It's just as important on the battle field to know how to save you and your friend's lives."

Hermione nodded in agreement.

"Everyone split into groups, and we'll cycle."

* * *

Ophelia had cleared off the table, and spread out all the healing suppliers she'd brought with her.

With each cycle, she'd start with the basics- things they could do even without their wands.

Lavender Brown was nearly sick when Ophelia described how one might put a bone back into place.

"Come now, Lavender," Ophelia soothed, "it's something you'll need to know if you're in a situation where you're friend dislocates their arm."

Lavender shuddered. She was better suited for fighting, Ophelia decided.

As she progressed into spells, herbs, and even basic surgery techniques, Ophelia noticed that Hannah Abbot, Padma Patil, and Dean Thomas were her best students.

She took note that, during the battle, she would watch out for them. Perhaps she'd recruit them to stay at her side. It was reassuring to know that she'd taught them enough to save lives.

In the middle of demonstrating how to use ripped clothing as bandages, Neville came running in through the door. He'd been missing for some time now.

"Come on!" He shouted, "We've got to go! Snape's bringing everyone into the Great Hall. McGonagall says to go. She's going to overtake him, and then we're going to evacuate the younger students, and get prepared for battle."

Though Ophelia dreaded the thought of facing Snape, she filed out of the room with the rest of the students. But first she changed into a spare Ravenclaw uniform. She didn't want to stand out, dressed in her overalls. Besides, the smooth, loose fabric of the skirt didn't brush against her wound.

Dozens of Hogwarts students rushed down the stairs in their uniforms, running for the Great Hall.

Ophelia's heart was pounding, as she looked about her. She'd lost Ron and Hermione somewhere along the way. _Nevermind, _she thought, and forced herself to keep going.

Once she'd reached the Great Hall, Ophelia found her way next to some Ravenclaw sixth years. Though she was in the third row back from the front, Ophelia still turned her head down, hoping that Snape wouldn't see her.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts paced furiously at the front of the hall. The students were silent, exchanging looks of fear.

"Many of you are surely wondering why I have summoned you at this hour," Snape's voice was cool and slow as enunciated each word. A chill went up Ophelia's spine.

"It's come to my attention that earlier this evening, Harry Potter was sighted in Hogsmeade."

A wave of whispers traveled across the room.

"Now should anyone…student _or_ staff, attempt to aid Mr. Potter, they will be punished in a manner consistent with the severity of their transgression. Furthermore, any person found to have knowledge of these events, who fails to come forward, will be treated as equally guilty."

Snape continued to pace, looking at all the faces of the Hogwarts students. Ophelia couldn't help but look up, in awe at how changed the man was.

"No one?" Snape prompted.

The students were silent and rigid. But Snape stopped in his tracks, looking directly at Ophelia.

He didn't speak the words, but his mouth silently formed them: "Ophelia?!"

She didn't speak, but merely stood there, refusing to let her eyes fill with tears.

"She's not the only surprise visitor, Professor," a voice spoke from the other side of the room.

Harry was standing beside his old classmates, wearing a Hogwarts cloak.

"It seems, despite your exhaustive defensive strategies, you still have a bit of a security problem, Headmaster."

As Harry spoke those words, the doors to the Great Hall opened, and in stepped the Order of the Phoenix, along with Hermione and Ron. Ophelia hadn't lost them, after all.

Snape nearly tripped as he fell back a few steps. He wasn't expecting that, Ophelia guessed.

He looked desperately to Ophelia, as if to ask for her help; to see whether she would join him this time. _He looks like a scared little child_, Ophelia thought.

She didn't verbally respond, but shook her head firmly, as if to say _not this time_. She stood and walked to Hermione's side.

"How dare you stand where he stood! Tell them how it happened that night. How you looked him in the eye, a man who trusted you, and killed him," Harry nearly snarled at Snape.

Snape, a look of terror still in his eyes, whipped out his wand and brandished it clumsily at his opponents. But Professor McGonagall stepped in front of Harry, pointing her own wand at the Headmaster.

Though she fired aggressive spells at the man, Snape merely protected himself with a shield spell. _What a coward_, Ophelia thought.

With one last glance at Ophelia, Snape transformed into a bat and flew through the glass window, smashing pieces onto the stone floor.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! There's a lot more action to come in the next chapter, so keep a look out for that! For now, please please PLEASE review! I want your input!**


	9. Sober

"_**She had something to confess to**_

_**But you don**__**'**__**t have the time so**_

_**Look the other way**_

_**You will wait until it**__**'**__**s over**_

_**To reveal what you**__**'**__**d never shown her**_

_**Too little much too late "**_

_**-**__**"**__**Muscle Museum", Muse**_

**Showbiz**

**Chapter Nine**

**A/N: Here we go…the moment you've all been waiting for! Please please PLEASE review and let me know what you think! Or send me messages! I'd love to meet my readers and hear your opinions and thoughts :)**

Before Ophelia could understand what was happening, students and staff alike were running about the Great Hall. McGonagall was attempting to organize an evacuation for the younger students, while the Order was recruiting the older students for the fight, which would begin anytime soon now.

With panic in her heart, Ophelia was nearly paralyzed. It reminded her of how she'd felt after Dumbledore's death- small and insignificant; overcome with fear and dread. All she could do was stare at the shards of glass, lining the floor behind the head table.

Ron and Hermione had already left without her, Luna and Harry were still off looking for the diadem, and Ginny was with the Weasleys, arguing about something Ophelia couldn't hear. She couldn't hear anything really- only the sound of her heart beat and heavy breath.

_Be brave_, she told herself, _be brave like Ollivander thought you were. _But she couldn't will herself to turn around and join the fight. Ophelia had never been a fighter. She was of the- rather unpopular around here- belief that healing was more important than killing. She had the right training to defend herself and others, but she wasn't that skilled.

Suddenly, a hand was on her shoulder and Ophelia nearly jumped out of her skin.

She turned to find George Weasley at her side.

"You okay, Pomfrey?"

Ophelia placed a hand on her chest, as though that would calm her heartbeat.

"I'm scared, alright?" She muttered, letting her eyes wander over to the last of the Weasleys trailing out of the Great Hall.

"It's okay, we all are," George shrugged, "this could be our last night as free people. Or it could just be our last night."

Ophelia nodded, not quite sure what to say.

"Any regrets?" George teased, "like not hooking up with a certain earless ginger boy?"

"I regret not being able to save him," Ophelia blurted out the words before she could understand them.

George raised his eyebrows.

"I-I don't know," Ophelia shrugged uncomfortably, "I guess I didn't realize until now that I feel a little guilty…about everything. I loved him a lot, you know…I have all this hatred, so I pretend I don't. But I still do. And I wish I could have saved him. I wish things could have been…different."

"It's okay," George tucked a piece of hair behind Ophelia's hair the way Snape used to, which, for some reason, annoyed Ophelia, "there's nothing you could have done. Not then. But now you can fight. I know you think you can't, but you _can_. And we need your healing skills out there. Without you, we could lose a lot of important people."

Ophelia nodded, reaching up to free the piece of hair George had hidden behind her ear.

"You're right. Let's go."

* * *

As Ophelia ran along a hall way on the third floor, she nearly knocked someone over. She'd been rushing to reach the hospital wing, to restock on supplies.

She stopped in her tracks, to see who she'd knocked over.

"Sorry!" She gushed, but stopped when she realized who it was.

Poppy Pomfrey stood, and brushed her hands off on her apron.

"It's quite alright, I-," the matron's mouth fell open, "Ophelia?!"

"Yes," Ophelia couldn't help but grin, "yes, it's me!"

"Merlin, child! I-I thought I'd never see you again…You'll give an old woman like me a heart attack, showing up like this…"

It was all so very familiar- her mother trying to give her a lecture even _now_.

Ophelia gave her mother a desperate hug, clinging her to her chest. She didn't want to let go, but she did, holding back tears.

"It's okay. I'm okay."

"I can see that," Poppy nodded towards the staircase, "shall we go?"

* * *

Nearly half an hour later, Ophelia had separated from her mother. She'd hadn't gotten a chance to catch up with her, but she'd have plenty of time for that once she'd located her friends.

She was about to give up, when she spotted Harry.

"There you are!"

He was with Ron and Hermione, crouched under an overturned desk.

Avoiding a spell that was fired past her shoulder, Ophelia scuttled under the desk, squeezing in next to Hermione.

"What's going on?!" She hissed.

"Fred's dead," Ron said. His eyes looked haunted, though his hands shook.

"Oh my Merlin," Ophelia whispered. How was George handling it? George, who had just encouraged Ophelia to keep fighting for those she loved? George who never left Fred's side…

"Ron and I destroyed the cup," Hermione added nervously, "and all three of us destroyed the diadem."

There was no time to feel hurt that they'd been so productive without her, Ophelia was just grateful that they were so close to finishing the last of the horcruxes.

"Now what?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged an important look that must have meant something to each other. Ron refused to look up from the floor, which he was glaring at, as though it had killed his brother.

"W-we…," Hermione shook her head, unable to finish.

"We have to go to the boat house by the lake," Harry finished, "it's where Snape and Voldemort are."

"Oh," Ophelia put simply, her lip slightly quivering, "all right then, what are we waiting for?"

Harry frowned.

"Ophelia, you can't come with us?"

"Why ever not?!" Ophelia was outraged, "I'm just as much involved in this as you are!"

"It's better you stay here and continue to heal everyone," Hermione's excuse was feeble and shook with her voice, "we can't risk-"

"Tell me the _real_ reason," Ophelia demanded.

"We can't have you messing this up," Ron finally spoke up, eyes dark and angry, "you have history with Snape. Things could go badly."

"If anything," Ophelia snapped, "my history with him could _help _us! I've stuck with you all this while, why do you think I'd back out now?"

Harry sighed.

"Alright. We don't doubt your loyalty Ophelia. It's just that you're so compassionate. When it comes down to it…we'll have to kill him."

"Not if I do it first," Ophelia whispered, and stood, firing an aggressive spell at a death eater who was backing Hannah Abbott into a corner.

* * *

"I have a problem, Severus," Voldemort's cool voice drawled, as he paced across the wooden floor. It was a windier night, and the waves lapped gently against the side of the boat house, causing a few small wooden boats to bump against one another.

Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ophelia were crouched down, just under a window. They were a safe enough distance away from Snape and Voldemort, but close enough that they could hear their exchange.

Seeing Snape, once again, no longer set a fire in Ophelia's heart. She could see how pale he was- scared for his life, most likely. Just like she was.

"My Lord?"

"Why did both the wands I have used fail when directed at Harry Potter?"

"I-I cannot answer that, my Lord."

"Can't you?"

Voldemort's pace quickened, and he past by Snape, staring deeply at his servant.

"You have a lover, correct? The freckled, gangly young woman? Tall and pretty, through tragically not a Slytherin."

Snape's face did not twitch in response, though he must have exhaled sharply or something of the like, because Voldemort was satisfied with his reaction, and continued.

"Ophelia, isn't that right? I've heard that's her name. Lovely name."

"My Lord?" Snape said once again.

"You are valuable to me, Severus. But if you will not cooperate with me, I would hate to see anything happen to her. We wouldn't want anything to happen…like last time."

This time, Snape's face did fall- only slightly.

_What happened last time?_ Ophelia wondered_. _She'd known Snape had loved someone before her, but he'd never told her anything about her.

"I-I have no explanation, my Lord."

"You are a clever man. I'm sure you know by now…this wand will not work for me, because I am not its master."

Ophelia held back a startled gasp. She felt Harry stirring, ever so slightly, beside her.

"Albus Dumbledore was. You killed Albus Dumbledore-,"

Ophelia knew what was going to happen next. Her heart beat so fast, she thought she might faint.

"It's a pity I must do this, but it must be done. Nagini…_kill_."

Ophelia nearly stood, and ran to stop him, but she knew she must stay put.

Voldemort's snake, the wicked beast that she was, attacked Snape with such a hunger. It was hard to see just what had happened, but Snape took a shaking hand and brought it to his neck, to stop the blood.

_Oh Merlin_, there was so much blood.

Voldemort gave Snape one last cruel smile, his snake at his side, and appeared back into the castle, or something other hiding spot.

The moment he was gone, Ophelia jumped through the empty window sill and ran to Snape's side. His dark eyes widened as he saw her, but quickly turned to look at Harry and the others, who had joined Ophelia.

"Take it…," Snape whispered, and suddenly Ophelia recognized the single silver tear rolling down his cheek. Her first thought was to wipe it away. It was the nurturer in her.

But Hermione yelped, nearly stepping on Ron's hand when she realized what it was.

"Here," she thrust a flask in Harry's hand, and Harry bottled the tear.

"Look at me," Snape commanded, and Harry did so.

"You have your mother's eyes," Snape whispered, and suddenly Ophelia understood.

Snape's eyes began to close, but his body didn't go limp. Not just yet. Ophelia squeezed Snape's hands tightly.

"I won't leave him," she insisted, with a animosity she'd never felt before. Though Ophelia had witnessed this man murder a beloved headmaster, and betray her and those she cared about, she had never felt more certain about anything. Something deep-rooted inside of her couldn't walk away.

"Go on," she nodded as Hermione bit her quivering lip, and Harry and Ron exchanged a worried glance, "I'll be fine. Do what you need to do."

_And I__'__ll do what _I _need to do_, Ophelia thought.

**A/N: Okay so it wasn't a very long interaction between Ophelia and Snape, but the ENTIRE next chapter will just be them together- I promise! By the way, if any of you still wanted to read that Valentine's Day one-shot, I will be posting it tonight and you can read it if you'd like :) Just go to my profile. Please review!**

***I chose to have it take place at the boat house vs. the shrieking shack because of the beautiful imagery of the dark sky against the dark lake, etc. idk it just really set the mood in the movie, I felt.**

**Side note: I was listening to Coldplay's "Yellow" and I couldn't stop thinking about Snape/Ophelia. I have no idea why.**


	10. Escape

"_**She had something to confess to**_

_**But you don**__**'**__**t have the time so**_

_**Look the other way**_

_**You will wait until it**__**'**__**s over**_

_**To reveal what you**__**'**__**d never shown her**_

_**Too little much too late "**_

_**-**__**"**__**Muscle Museum", Muse**_

**Showbiz**

**Chapter Ten**

**A/N: I am so happy to be back writing! I had to take some time off to focus on work and being healthy, but I'm back for a while :) Please enjoy this chapter, I really want it to satisfy everyone's needs/wants for this story…PLEASE let me know what you thought- whether through a public review or a PM. I really appreciate it!**

Hermione looked as though she might protest, but Harry gave Ophelia a silent nod; firm but kind. Somehow Harry could always read Ophelia's mind- like they were twins with a telepathic connection.

"Come on," Harry urged. Ron didn't think twice about standing up and walking out of the boat house. He was still troubled from Fred's death, and seemed almost resentful of Ophelia. It was a problem for another time, however.

Harry touched Ophelia's shoulder and joined his friend. He glanced one last time at Snape, as though conflicted. But he had his tears- his memories. Even if…even if Ophelia couldn't save the man, that would be enough.

Lastly, Hermione hesitated. Her eyes shimmered with tears as she looked at her dear friend. It was as though this was her final moment with Ophelia. Ophelia longed to tell Hermione that she'd see her again soon, but there was no time.

Hermione pulled her beaded bag off of her shoulder and placed it in Ophelia's hands. She sniffed, and ran off after Harry.

_She__'__ll be okay_, Ophelia acknowledged. But the same couldn't necessarily be said for Snape.

"O-phe-li-a,"Snape winced as he gasped out her name.

_Please don__'__t let that be his last word,_ Ophelia begged. She'd never believed in any higher power, per se, but she prayed now. _I don__'__t know how I feel about this man anymore, but please let him live. _

"Shhh," Ophelia tried to be soothing, though she wanted nothing more than to slap his face and scream at him to stay with her.

"Don't talk, just focus on breathing," Ophelia demanded. She pushed his hair away from his neck. She removed her shite button-down shirt and tied it around the wound, applying as much pressure as she could.

Snape's eyes widened in pain, and he reached out and grazed a finger along her bare collar bone.

She moved abruptly, letting his hand fall to the floor boards.

"Enough of that now," she whispered, "I'm not losing you yet."

She summoned all the healing ingredients she needed out Hermione's bag.

"The first thing I need to do is draw the venom out," she explained, though Snape was barley conscious and murmured no reply this time.

She shook him gently on the shoulders.

"Stay with me now," her voice was desperate, "this process will take some time and I can't be distracted, so just keep still and _stay with me_."

Tears built in her eyes, but she refused to let them shed.

Ophelia had never preformed a spell like this before. She'd read about it a number of times, but had never had a chance to practice it. Snake bites were not a common problem at Hogwarts.

She took a deep breath that rattled through her ribcage, and whispered the words.

She steadied her hand and pointed her wand directly at the wound and summoned all her strength. Pulling the venom out was hard- harder than anything else she had ever done. She felt sweat drip down her forehead and a pounding in her head. Her heart beat so loud, she couldn't even hear the screams up at the castle, the waves hitting the boat house, or Snape's feeble breath.

Just when she felt that she might not be able to continue, she felt the last of it leave Snape's body. The spell was a complicated healing spell- one of the most difficult. It gave the healer a connection with the patient that was inexplicable. She just _knew_.

But as it left Snape's body, so did his strength. He made a grunting sound, and his body fell to the floor.

"NO!" She shrieked, dropping her wand as she scrambled to lift him back up. She could still feel his heart beat, however faint.

She shoved his back against the wall, assuring it was straight.

"_Rennervate_," she cast the spell, waking him from his unconsciousness. She remembered the time Snape had fallen through the ice, and she'd had to cast the same spell.

_Look at this, _she thought, _here I am saving you again_.

Snape strained his eyes. He looked so lost and confused. Maybe even a little bit innocent. There was no time to laugh at the irony.

"Stay with me," Ophelia pleaded once more.

She knew that drawing the venom out would have a big impact on him. He had already lost so much blood; his body was weak.

She force-fed him some herbs that would help regenerate some of the lost blood and give him strength, though she knew they would take time to act, and might not be enough.

She just hoped that he wouldn't be sick, and expel the herbs from his system. They were all she had with her.

She began to clean the wound. Most of the blood had been sopped up, and he wasn't bleeding at the same level as he was before. But the wound was still open and vulnerable to infection.

She cleaned it the best she could with the materials she had. She had to most of her work by hand. Her hands were shaking and she could hardly concentrate on casting spells right then.

When she'd done all she could do, she searched through the bag and pulled out a water bottle. It was a special one that Hermione had brought with them especially for their trip. It refilled with clean drinking water every time it emptied.

She brought it to Snape's lips. Though he was awake, he could barely move his lips to accept the drink. She had to wipe away the water that spilled across his face.

She almost wanted to laugh, in spite of it all. She never thought that she'd be here, after everything that had happened.

"I'm sorry," Snape's voice was raspy, but he spoke all the same.

"You don't have to…," Ophelia wasn't sure what she was saying. She looked down at her shaking hands, and stored the water bottle back in Hermione's bag.

"You shouldn't talk. It will exhaust you."

"I don't care," he continued, "if I don't make it-,"

"You're _going_ to make it," Ophelia disagreed, "I did everything I could."

"I know," his voice dropped to a whisper, and suddenly his eyes wandered. He ran his gaze along her body. She felt foolish, wearing only her pleated grey skirt and a small lacy bra. She'd always been too small to really need bras, but she'd started wearing them after her pregnancy.

"You're not allowed to look at me like that," Ophelia said, though she avoided eye contact with him.

"I'm sorry," Snape repeated, "I want you to know everything."

"Not now," Ophelia shook her head. Her hair, which was previously tied back in a ponytail was unraveling, falling into her face.

Snape reached out to push a strand back behind her ear. This time it felt right, and Ophelia had to fight the urge to kiss him.

"There is so much you don't know. I…I can't imagine what you think of me," Snape's eyes welled with tears.

"It's okay…I know," Ophelia shrugged uncomfortably.

"You can't possibly know…?" Snape frowned.

"I don't know the details. And trust me…I've spent most of this year wishing you were dead…but I heard it in your voice," Ophelia cleared her throat, "W-when you were talking to _him_."

Snape nodded. There was so much they needed to say to one another, but how could they?

"You wanted me dead?"

"I-I don't know!?" Ophelia threw her arms up in frustration, "I wanted something bad to happen to you, yes. I wanted you hurt!"

"Like this?" Snape almost had a look of cruel humour in his eyes, as he gestured loosely to the wound on his neck.

"No…I…I don't know. _You_ hurt _me._ You," tears started spilling down Ophelia's freckled cheeks and she sputtered on her words, "you broke me. You loved me and then you _killed_ Dumbledore, and then you _left_. Y-you just left!"

"Do you even know how foolish I felt?" Ophelia snapped, suddenly feeling a surge of anger, "I felt like a _stupid_ little girl who fell for an older man, and didn't see it coming when he left her in the dirt. I'm supposed to be smart- I was a Ravenclaw for Merlin's sake. How could I have been so _stupid_?!"

"No, no," Snape shushed her, a finger pressed against her cheek, wiping away a tear, "you are the smartest girl I ever met. Even smarter than…," he laughed oddly, as if confused, "even smarter than Lily."

"Lily…," Ophelia was on her knees, scooting closer to Snape, so that their faces were level, "you said…," she frowned, "Harry has his mother's eyes…,"

Snape's head fell and he refused to look at her.

"Like I said…," he murmured, and looked out the window at the lake, "There's a lot to tell you."  
Ophelia was silent, wringing her hands in her lap. She thought about sitting in the snow in Godric's Hollow. She thought about how Lily was such a beautiful name. How she'd considered naming the baby that…

_The baby_…she _couldn__'__t_ tell him about the baby.

Ophelia stood, backing away from what could have been an embrace.

"I have to go," she draped Hermione's bag across her shoulder, and dug into it for another shirt. All she could find was one of her large maternal sweaters. It fell over her skirt.

"_Go?_ Go where?" Snape struggled to sit up. Ophelia shook her head. He should know better.

"You'll be fine. I promise."

"Go _where_, Ophelia?"

"Where the hell do you think?" Ophelia snapped, "while we've been sitting here, Harry could be off doing who knows what!"

Snape looked as though he might fire back a comment, but pursed his lips. He looked guilty- guiltier than usual.

"You know," Ophelia realized, "you know what he's doing. That's what's in those memories."

"Ophelia, you have to understand-,"

"I don't _have_ to do anything!"

"He has to die."

The words stung. Ophelia didn't know how to respond. She wasn't as surprised as she thought she would be.

"I won't let that happen."

"You love him?" Snape asked. There was no bitterness or jealousy in his voice. He must have understood.

"He's family," Ophelia fought back tears, "I can't let him die."

"You can't save everyone, Ophelia," Snape shook his head.

"I can try," Ophelia whispered.

"Ophelia, wait-,"

"_Stupefy._"

**A/N: I've been thinking a lot lately about how similar Harry and Ophelia are. They are very different in a lot of ways, but I think there are a lot of shared qualities too, and that's why they are fun to write. They have a silent understanding of each other.**

**Anyway, yet again I hope you enjoyed this chapter! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE give me feedback :)**


	11. Overdue

**"_She had something to confess to_**

**_But you don__'__t have the time so_**

**_Look the other way_**

**_You will wait until it__'__s over_**

**_To reveal what you__'__d never shown her_**

**_Too little much too late "_**

**_-__"__Muscle Museum", Muse_**

**Showbiz**

**Chapter Eleven**

**A/N: Sorry that I've been absent for so long! My life has been so hectic! I cut all my hair off, I am leaving my job and moving to a new town and a new school. So many new things! And now here's a new chapter! Enjoy and review!**

**Reminder: this is a Fanfiction so sometimes there are AU moments or scenes.**

**Warning: this first scene contains Yaxley being a creep. Trigger warning for sexual harassment/abuse sort of (it's not too bad, I just wanted to be on the safe side for you guys).**

The trek back to the castle was a difficult one. Dawn was beginning to crack the sky, letting feeble sunlight guide Ophelia. But she was weary, and her injury from the horcurxes was still ripe and painful. Each step was agony.

Ophelia was also emotionally strained. She'd just witnessed the dark lord attempt to kill the love of her life. She'd saved him, but she still had so many unanswered questions. If Snape was innocent, why had he killed Dumbledore? Why had he left her? Who was Lily Potter, and what did she mean to Snape?

Ophelia let out a small whimper, as she brushed her side against a tree branch. She was walking up the forested hill to the covered bridge.

She paused for a moment to collect her breath, leaning against the entrance to the bridge. She knew that she didn't have much time. Though she didn't understand what Snape had shared with Harry in his memories, she understood that her friend was in danger. She knew that she wasn't as strong as her friends, but she had to at least try to save Harry. He meant the world to her.

Ophelia was just beginning to think of what the quickest way into the castle would be, when she heard the small cracking sound of someone stepping on a twig.

She turned around, holding her wand out in front of her. He heart sank.

A man with a long grey braid and a devilish smirk on his face was standing about five feet away from her. Yaxley.

"Fancy seeing you here," he chuckled. He stepped forward once.

Ophelia suddenly felt very uncomfortable in her oversized sweater. It was too hot; too big.

"It's nice to see you again," She hurried her words, hoping she didn't sound too nervous, "but I've really got to be going."

Yaxley took another step forward. He placed a hand on Ophelia's, and lowered her wand to the floor.

"I don't think so," he shook his head, "see, since we've last met, I've been learning _so much_ about you."

Ophelia's hand began to shake. She felt pathetic and vulnerable. She'd never been much of a fighter, and wasn't confident that she could take on a man like Yaxley.

"What do you mean?" The only possible solution Ophelia could think of, was to keep talking. She had talked her way out of situations like this before, maybe there was some way she could manipulate him into letting her go.

"You're not just an old student of Snape's," Yaxley enlightened, running his hungry eyes over Ophelia's shapeless sweater, as though she were instead wearing lingerie.

"You were his _slut_," Yaxley spat, and Ophelia winced, as he took a step closer. He was now level with her face. Ophelia was a tall girl, and Yaxley was barely an inch taller than her. But he was intimidating all the same.

"What I do with my personal life is not your business," Ophelia replied, lowering her eyes. _Please don__'__t let him sense my fear_, Ophelia begged of the universe.

"No," Yaxley laughed once more, "but it could be. I hear you and Snape are no longer together."

"Do you want to stand about and gossip with me all day?" Ophelia frowned, "don't you have something better to do? Or were you not invited to the dark lord's party?"

"You're getting a little nasty," Yaxley snarled, and grabbed Ophelia's wrist. She struggled to free herself, but realizing it was a lost cause, stopped, "It's okay, though, I like you like that."

Lying and manipulating had worked on Yaxley before. He was clever, but not necessarily clever enough. Ophelia had to try harder.

"You're not going to like me when you're dead on the ground," Ophelia hissed. She hoped that she sounded threatening, though she was sure she didn't.

"Empty threats, love," Yaxley's hands were roaming, and when he ran them along her side, Ophelia nearly buckled over in pain.

"Ah, so you _do_ have a weak spot," Yaxley said triumphantly. He pushed harder, and Ophelia cried out.

Thinking quickly, and in spite of her pain, Ophelia raised a shaking hand and ran it through Yaxley's hair.

Enjoying this response, Yaxley stopping pushing and proceeded to kiss her. It was rough and unpleasant, just like last time. Ophelia wanted nothing more than to bite his tongue off.

While Yaxley's eyes were closed, he didn't realize that she'd stuck her hand in Hermione's purse and was now gripping the brass lamp that came with their charmed tent. She pulled away from him, and smashed the lamp against his head as hard as she could.

It was certainly enough to knock the man out, but she knew he would probably survive the night.

"That's what you get when you stand between me and my friends," Ophelia reprimanded the unconscious man, and limped away in the direction of the nearest castle entrance.

* * *

Ophelia spotted Neville walking across the courtyard. Her heart thudded, and she chased after him, only to see that many of her friends were spilling out from the castle. They looked solemn and exhausted.

Ophelia fell at Ron and Hermione's side. Hermione grabbed her friend's hand and squeezed it tightly, silently acknowledging how happy she was to see her alive. But Harry wasn't present.

Ophelia turned to find that Voldemort and his followers were approaching. The dark lord had a faint smile on his face, as he lead his group of dark-cloaked fiends.

Ophelia gulped. She exchanged a look with Ron and Hermione that confirmed her worst fears. Harry had sacrificed himself, after all.

But it appeared that not everyone was aware of Harry's decision, as screams and cries of outrage came from behind Ophelia, as they saw the limp, cold body in Hagrid's arms.

Ophelia thought she might be sick.

"Harry Potter is dead!" Voldemort announced. His followers laughed and hooted in celebration.

"Harry Potter is dead," Voldemort repeat, ignoring Ginny's howls, "from this day forth…you put your faith in me."

Ophelia pulled her hand away from Hermione's, and moved forward to put her arm around Ginny. She was now at the very front, so close to Voldemort himself.

"Now is the time to declare yourself!" Voldemort eagerly eyed his opposers, wondering who would step forward.

"Come forward and join us…or die," Voldemort stepped closer, Bellatrix hot on his heels.

"_Draco_," Malfoy's parents urged the blonde-haired boy to join them. With little hesitation, Malfoy ran to his parent's side.

As much as Ophelia wanted, she couldn't blame the boy. After all, it was times like these when you wanted to be with those you loved. Ophelia thought of Snape, of Ron, Hermione, and the Weasleys. She thought of her mother, who she couldn't see in the crowd behind her, and her father who she'd never met. She especially thought of Harry, who she'd never see again.

Ophelia stepped forward, though she wasn't sure why. It had been an impulsive move, like she was possessed.

She glanced anxiously behind her at her confused friends.

There was something that she couldn't remember, something important…Snape had whispered something to her before he'd fallen unconscious.

_The snake_…

Ophelia's gaze wandered to the python at Voldemort's feet. She wasn't sure how she could kill the snake, especially if it was a horcrux, as the others had thought. But if it was the last thing she tried to do, then it was worth it.

She'd seen her mother, and Snape, and her friends today, and that was all that mattered. Maybe her time on the earth was coming to an end. Maybe she'd served her purpose, whatever it had been.

"What's this?" Voldemort inspected her, with a grin. Smiles did not belong on his gaunt face, and made him appear even more gruesome.

"Ophelia Pomfrey, is it?" the dark lord was impressed, "I'm sorry about your lover's passing…," there was no sympathy in his voice, "but sometimes these things must happen. And with devotion like yours…we will always have a place for you."

Ophelia nearly laughed at this gruesome man trying to buy her loyalty. She wanted to scream that she'd never even think of joining him.

She kept silent however, glancing desperately back at her friends. She didn't know what she expected from them, but she expected it all the same. She didn't have a plan, except to stall Voldemort until she came up with one.

Voldemort stepped closer, and Ophelia felt vaguely nauseous, thinking of her earlier encounter with Yaxley.

"A pretty girl like you, we could make a handsome match for you with any of my Death Eaters."

A shudder ran up Ophelia's back, but she continued with her stubborn silence.

"Don't be shy…," Voldemort urged, his patience running out.

Just when Ophelia was about to make a rash decision, someone stepped out beside her. Expecting Hermione or Ron, Ophelia was surprised to find Neville at her side, clutching the Sorting Hat.

"We'll never join you," Neville's voice quivered, though he was still a braver person than Ophelia. She gave him a grateful smile. The time for pretending was over.

"Harry wasn't just our leader, he was our friend," Ophelia added, "our _family_."

"It doesn't matter that Harry's gone," Neville continued, giving Ophelia a nod, "people die every day. We lost Harry tonight, but he's still with us. So is everyone.

"They didn't die in vain. But you will!" Neville shouted at the dark lord, "because you're wrong!"

Voldemort laughed through his teeth, as though Neville were a court fool.

"Harry's hear did beat for us- for all of us!"

With a strength summoned from somewhere inside, Neville pulled out the sword of Gryffindor from inside the hat.

Ophelia gasped as she saw the body in Hagrid's hands slip to the floor, and suddenly stand. Harry was alive!

Ophelia turned to Hermione and Ron, and they shrieked with happiness. But this only deterred Voldemort for a moment, and the death eaters were firing spells, and Voldemort was running after Harry.

As the battle commenced, Ophelia rushed into the Great Hall to deal with the wounded. Still unable to locate her mother, Ophelia knew she'd have to take charge.

"Alright!" She called, rounding up Dean Thomas, Hannah Abbot, and Padma Patil, "I need you three to sort through all the wounded. Get someone strong to help you move bodies when you need to. All minor injuries can be tended to later. I need to have all the emergency patients over by the door for me."

Ophelia searched the room once more, now concerned about her mother's whereabouts.

"I'm going to be back as soon as I can," Ophelia assured her protégées, "I'm just going to go get some more supplies."

Ophelia knew very well that she couldn't perform most basic surgeries with just magic. She'd need supplies. The nearest supply closet was on the third floor. She rushed out of the hall, hoping that she wouldn't end up in the crossfire of a battle.

* * *

Ophelia was sprinting back down the stairs, her hands full of medical supplies, when she thought about Snape. She hoped that he was alright. She trusted her healing skills, but his condition was risky and unpredictable. She wondered how soon she would be able to return to him.

She rushed into the Great Hall, and handed out supplies, bending down on her knees on the stone floor. She assessed an emergency patient- a seventh year Hufflepuff she had seen once before. The damage was probably fatal, but Ophelia rolled up her sleeves nonetheless.

Ophelia was working on her third patient, when she felt a presence at her shoulder.

"Luna?" Ophelia was surprised to see her old friend in the hall, instead of out fighting.

"Didn't you hear, sweet Ophelia?" Luna squeaked, "the war is over!"

"What?" Ophelia's hand nearly slipped as she continued to stitch a patient's arm, "Voldemort is dead?"

"Yes!" Luna chimed, "Harry killed him, just like I knew he would!"

Though Luna was greatly simplifying the story, and Ophelia longed to know what she'd really missed, she let out a long sigh of relief. Two years of hell, and he was finally dead.

"Luna, that's amazing, I-," Ophelia stopped speaking, as she squinted across the room. She had an odd suspicion, and stood, brushing her hands on the apron she'd found. She was now adorned in the traditional red and white healing gown the Hogwarts matron always wore.

Across the room, a body wore the exact same outfit.

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Just two more to go! Please please PLEASE review! Also FYI, if you like "Wattpad", my stories are now on that website too under the same username, so feel free to check them out and review there too! Thanks! Love you guys!**


	12. Hate This and I'll Love You

"_**She had something to confess to**_

_**But you don**__**'**__**t have the time so**_

_**Look the other way**_

_**You will wait until it**__**'**__**s over**_

_**To reveal what you**__**'**__**d never shown her**_

_**Too little much too late "**_

_**-**__**"**__**Muscle Museum", Muse**_

Showbiz

Chapter Twelve

A/N: Here we are at the second last chapter of the story! Wow, I can't believe we are nearing the end of the third instalment! This is crazy, and so are you guys! I love all of you and your support and questions! I've had a few people ask me about Ophelia's patronus lately, so I will be adding a little scene for you guys in the next chapter! Enjoy and review!

_Scene Continued: _

Ophelia immediately reached out to grab Luna's hand. She clutched it tightly, feeling her throat clasp as her breath left her.

"What is it, Ophelia?" Luna inquired in her soft Irish brogue.

Ophelia dropped Luna's hand, and began to walk to the other side of the Great Hall, ignoring Luna's words. Her head was spinning, and she was beginning to feel faint.

After everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, she should be immune to tragedy. But all she felt was nauseous and confused. This couldn't be right…could it?

She knelt down next to the body, and pressed her hand against the wrist. No pulse. None.

Hannah Abbot had stepped next to her, and was spreading a sheet over the body.

"Don't," Ophelia commanded, peeling the sheet back. Her head was pounding.

Hannah placed a sympathetic hand on Ophelia's shoulder, and moved on. Though the girl probably wanted to comfort Ophelia, there were other patients to attend to. If Ophelia weren't so distraught, she'd be proud of Hannah.

Poppy Pomfrey had had a child late in life. She was sixty years old, though she'd aged well. You could see the stress lines along her forehead, and crow's feet pulled at her dark brown eyes. Where had Ophelia gotten her blue eyes from? Apparently her father's had been brown too.

Ophelia slowly closed those brown eyes, and held back a sob. This time it was Luna who put a hand on Ophelia's shoulder. When Ophelia didn't respond, Luna knelt down beside her.

"I'm sorry, Ophelia," Luna whispered, "she was an amazing woman."

"She _was_…," Ophelia shook her head, "_was__…__?_"

"She died saving so many innocent people tonight," Luna added, giving Ophelia a look of concern.

"I-," Ophelia cleared her throat, "I'm sorry," she stood up, "It's just a lot to process. Harry defeats Voldemort, my mother is dead, and Snape…,"

Luna raised her eyebrows at Ophelia. No one knew about Snape.

"One problem at a time," Luna soothed, "I will help you. Anything you want, Ophelia."

Ophelia nodded, her stomach churning.

—

Ophelia found Harry, Ron, and Hermione sitting on the edge of the bridge. Someone had told her that she'd find them there- she'd forgotten who. Everything seemed like a blur to her.

The bridge had been practically destroyed; large chunks out of the walkway were missing and the railing was nearly inexistent. The three teenagers sat next to each other on the edge, their legs swinging rhythmically to the tune of the wind.

Ophelia paused to watch them for a moment. They made a good trio; The Golden Trio, she'd heard them called.

Ophelia gently cleared her throat, and Hermione turned around.

"Ophelia!" She cried, and gestured for her friend to join her.

Ophelia was hesitant at first, though she didn't know why. Hermione nodded, giving her a warm smile, in spite of it all, and Ophelia sat next to her.

"Where have you been? We were worried about you!" Hermione put an arm around her. Part of Ophelia wanted to squirm free, and run away as fast as she could- change her name, dye her hair, forget about everything. But part of her welcomed the human touch; the sense of intimacy was appreciated. It made her feel warm where she'd been cold since she'd lost her child.

"I had something to deal with…," Ophelia trailed off. For reasons she couldn't name, she didn't want to tell them about her mother yet. It felt private, in a world where nothing was. She wanted to own this secret, even just for a while.

"What have you got there?" Ophelia nodded at the object in Harry's lap.

"It's the Elder Wand," Ron answered for him, "and Harry's been thinking what he should do with it."

Ophelia knew exactly what Harry would do with it, because she and Harry were the same that way. Harry didn't need to say the words, before he'd snapped it in half and thrown it off the bridge.

Ron had a look of pain in his eyes, and Hermione, although supportive, was shocked.

"It had to be done," was all Harry said.

Ron laughed, and thew back his arms in a well-deserved stretch.

"What now?" Hermione asked. A valid question.

Ophelia didn't know where to begin. In the dawn of the new day, she wanted to be optimistic. All they'd been fighting for, these last two years, had been achieved. But so many had been lost along the way.

"I need your help," Ophelia suddenly said, surprising herself.

"Anything," Harry said at once. Just like Luna.

"I need you to help me move Snape…_Severus, _back up to the castle. It will take at least all four of us, but it needs to be done soon. I…I need him to be okay."

"I understand," Harry nodded. After all, Harry knew more about Severus' story than Ophelia did.

"He's the only one I have left…," Ophelia admitted. Maybe it was better that she didn't keep the secret.

"What do you mean?" Hermione frowned.

"My mother…she's dead," Ophelia said the words aloud, tasting them like copper in her mouth.

A/N: Sorry that this is so short! The next chapter will be much longer! By the way guys- this isn't the end of this series, in case you thought it was! No no no no, I have much more planned for Ophelia and friends. I actually recently thought of a VERY interesting storyline centred around Ophelia's identity and family…that's all I'll say for now. Look forward to talking to you guys again soon! Please feel free to review or PM me with questions/suggestions, etc. :)


	13. Showbiz (Epilogue)

**"_She had something to confess to_**

**_But you don__'__t have the time so_**

**_Look the other way_**

**_You will wait until it__'__s over_**

**_To reveal what you__'__d never shown her_**

**_Too little much too late "_**

**_-__"__Muscle Museum", Muse_**

**Showbiz**

**Epilogue**

**A/N: The final chapter! I felt bad about how short the last one is, so here's a much longer one! Hopefully this ending will satisfy you and make you excited for the next story! PLEASE review!**

The aftermath of the battle was chaotic. The students of Hogwarts had gone home for the summer- despite it only being the beginning of May.

Professor McGonagall had stepped in as Headmistress for the time being. She felt it was best to send the students home and worry about their academic futures after Hogwarts had been repaired- in more ways than one.

Those who remained behind were a selection of Hogwarts' loyal staff, and the living members of the Order of the Phoenix.

It had taken Ophelia nearly a week to sort through all the injured students in the Great Hall, and move them upstairs to the Hospital Wing.

Now she was sitting in the Great Hall, which had been repurposed as a meeting room. Some of the benches had been repaired, and organized in rows. McGonagall stood at the front.

Ophelia was seated next to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. Ginny had her on Harry's shoulder, sleepily blinking at what McGonagall was saying. Ophelia felt exhaustion herself, but politely stifled a yawn.

It had been a long week, and an even longer year.

McGonagall had been holding these meetings every morning since the end of the Battle of Hogwarts. They'd discuss what projects they were going to achieve for the day. For example, Mr. Weasley, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnigan were currently working on repairing the bridge.

But Ophelia had had nothing but sleepless nights, and her eyes were beginning to droop, when something stopped her.

Ophelia frowned. It couldn't be…? A figure was limping in through the doors. McGonagall stopped speaking.

"Severus," her voice was flat, "Joining us?"

Severus didn't respond, but merely grunted in recognition and continued to limp over to Ophelia's bench. He sat down next to her, leaning his cruches against the bench.

"I told Hannah to come get me when you'd woken," Ophelia whispered furiously, as McGonagall continued on. Mrs. Weasley stood up, ready to set forward a motion.

"It's alright," Severus murmured. His voice was weak, but he was trying, "I'm alright," he added.

He took Ophelia's hand in his own, and caressed it lovingly.

"Hey you love birds," Harry whispered, "we're having a dinner tonight. Just the four of us and our dates," he nodded to Ginny and Severus respectively, "Will you join us?"

"A…erm…dinner party?" Ophelia wanted to be supportive but it was difficult to feel festive so soon after everything that had happened.

Harry nodded, "just say you'll be there."

"Okay…," Ophelia exchanged a confused glance with Severus, but agreed.

When the meeting was over, Ophelia held Severus' hand tightly as they ascended the staircase.

"Going up," Severus grunted, as he struggled to walk, "is always harder."

"Yeah…," Ophelia agreed distantly, "What do you think Harry means by doing this? A dinner party in the middle of all…," Ophelia gestured to the destruction around her, "_this_?"

"I don't know," Severus sighed as he settled into his bed in the Hospital Wing, "but I'm trying not to worry about things like that right now. I'm lucky to be alive."

Ophelia laughed, and smacked Severus' arm lightly.

"What was that for?!" Severus nursed his arm like a pouting child.

"For not sounding anything like the Severus I know," Ophelia teased, "but it's nice. And you're right. You are lucky to be alive. And I'm glad you are."

"Thanks to you," Severus smiled faintly, struggling to sit up against his pillow.

"Thanks to Harry," Ophelia added, giving Severus a meaningful look, "you know he went from wanting you dead, to looking at you like a friend. That's a big transformation."

Ophelia tutted as Severus, in his wounded clumsiness, knocked over his cup of tea. She bent over to pick up the shards.

"He's not the only one who's gone through that transformation," Severus commented mildly.

Ophelia rose slowly, and dropped the shards into the rubbish bin. She refused to meet Severus' eyes.

"We can't avoid the conversation forever, Ophelia," Severus admitted, his voice defeated.

"I don't-," Ophelia began, but Severus stopped her.

"You _do_," he raised an eyebrow at her, "and I do too. Ophelia…you saw me kill Dumbledore. You saw me fight McGonagall and you saw me at the Dark Lord's side. You can't pretend that none of that happened. I know you better than that."

Ophelia sighed, and sat down on the bed across from the love of her life.

"It's alright…I understand, Severus," Ophelia murmured, "you told me…that night."

"No I didn't," Severus' voice rose, "I didn't even come close. Ophelia, you love me, don't you?"

"O-of course," Ophelia cried, moving over to Severus' bed, and sitting close by his side, clutching his hand once more.

"Then you'd respect me enough to let me tell you my story. My _real_ story," Severus insisted.

"The same one Harry heard?" Ophelia whispered.

"The same one Harry _saw_," Severus corrected, "it's not something I can really…tell. You'll look at the memories, won't you? For me?"

Ophelia stared anxiously at her feet, but nodded.

"When?"

"As soon as possible."

Ophelia looked up to find Severus clutching a narrow vial, holding a few drops of iridescent and translucent liquid.

Reluctantly, Ophelia took the vial.

"Severus…wait," Ophelia took out her wand, and closed her eyes. She tapped her wand against her temple, and slowly drew out her own memories, and put them in her own vial, "If I'm going to know what happened while you were gone, then it's only fair that you know too."

Ophelia's heart thudded, as she realized what she'd done. She was terrified, but she knew it was the right thing to do.

—

As Ophelia pulled her face out of the pensieve, she reached out for Severus' arm. She pulled him close to her and rested her head on his shoulders. They continued this silent dance for a time.

Professor McGonagall had let the pair use Dumbledore's office for the afternoon, so Severus and Ophelia were alone together.

"I knew…when you said about Harry's eyes…," Ophelia trailed off sheepishly, "I guess I was feeling a little jealous. I didn't want to bring it up."

"I will always love Lily," Severus explained, "and you don't know how much agony I feel every day, knowing that I had anything to do with her death…hers…_and_ James'…"

Ophelia nodded. James Potter might have been a bit of an arrogant teenager, but Ophelia knew that he hadn't had time to grow to be a man, and that wasn't fair. Especially to Harry.

"I might love Lily…but Lily has been dead for seventeen years, Ophelia. She treated me right, she understood me. But that was a long time ago. Lily was my past, you are my present…my future," Severus' voice was tender, and Ophelia smiled to herself, secretly thanking McGonagall for not being there. Severus was a hidden romantic.

But then Ophelia's face fell, and she took a step back from him.

"What's wrong?" Severus asked, "I know it was a lot to take. Especially with what happened to Dumbledore…and how Harry had to die…I-I don't expect you to just forgive me."

Ophelia couldn't help but laugh hoarsely.

"Forgive you? Severus I-I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I think you need to look at the memories I gave you. And I don't think you will like them."

Severus frowned.

"Whatever it is, I can handle it," he disagreed.

Before Ophelia could respond, he'd stuck his head into the basin. Ophelia sighed and joined him. If he was going to experience the pain, she should join him.

_The first memory saw Ophelia in the Staff bathroom on the third floor. It was a week after Dumbledore had died, just before his funeral. She__'__d been feeling ill. She had a strange thought, and she couldn__'__t help but wonder__…_

_She had the bathroom to herself, and she was pacing back and forth. Finally, she stopped walking and looked down at the sink counter. On it, was a little white stick._

_Ophelia held the stick in her hand, and nearly fell against the counter as she read what it said._

Positive. _It was positive. Ophelia held a hand up to her mouth, stifling a gasp._

"_No no no no no,__" __she whispered._

_The next memory was the day that Ophelia had visited the Ministry of Magic. After Severus had left, and Yaxley had kissed her, Ophelia was down in the courtrooms of the Ministry. The voices were muffled, but it was clear what was happening. Soon, Delores Umbridge had set free her dementors, and Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ophelia were running._

_For a moment, Ophelia almost fell, but Harry dragged her along. While they were running, they summoned Patronus charms. Harry__'__s stag, Ron__'__s terrier, and Hermione__'__s otter floated along the ceiling, bring light to the approaching darkness._

_It had been a long time since Ophelia had produced a corporeal patronus. But she cast the spell nonetheless, expecting her usual little barn owl to flutter out. But instead__…__a silvery snake slunk out of her wand, and Ophelia stopped in her tracks._

"_No,__" __she said aloud, __"__I don__'__t feel that way anymore!__" __Tears started to spatter across her cheeks, and it took Hermione to drag Ophelia to safety this time._

_It was that night that Ophelia admitted to herself that she still loved Severus._

—

_It was a rainy morning in the tent, while Ophelia and her friends were on the run. The sun had only just risen, and Ophelia lifted herself out of bed. She lifted the tent flap, and ushered Harry back to bed, reassuring him that she__'__d be just fine on watch. He yawned and lumbered back to bed._

_Ophelia sat down on the damp earth, breathing deeply, and enjoying a moment to herself in these chaotic times. _

_Out of habit, she placed her hand on her baby bump. She looked out at the forest, frowning as she watched a woodpecker beat a hole into a tree trunk. _

_She was straining her eyes; lost in thought. She was thinking about how she used to go bird-watching in the Hogwarts grounds in her third-year. A brief but passionate obsession._

_It was then that Ophelia felt something: a fluttering. The first thought that came to her head, was that a bird was inside her, flapping its wings. Then she realized what she was feeling._

_She gasped, and brought her other hand to feel it. It was her baby. Her baby was moving inside her; curling, stretching, reaching, touching. Her baby was real; alive. _

_She began to cry._

—

_It was the day after Ophelia had lost her baby. She hadn__'__t spoken or risen from her bed. She had her hand on her stomach, clutching desperately to what wasn__'__t there._

_Her mother stepped into the back office, closing the door. There were still students in the Hospital Wing. She could hear their chattering and groans of pain and the ruffled sounds of their sheets as they moved. Even with the door closed, she wasn__'__t alone. Not truly._

_Her mother sat down at the end of the bed. They were silent for a time; her mother merely patted the sheets down neurotically, trying to straighten what was already straight._

_Finally, she spoke._

"_You never knew__…__what the gender of the baby was?__" __Her mother prompted._

_Ophelia stared up at the ceiling, willing her mother to leave._

"_No,__" __she muttered. She__'__d never noticed how ugly the ceiling was until now. _

"_Did you want to know?__" __Poppy Pomfrey asked her daughter the question as if she were asking what she wanted for lunch._

_Ophelia sat up, gingerly moving as if she were still pregnant. _

"_Okay,__" __she said. She wasn__'__t sure that she did want to know, but she didn__'__t want to say __"_yes" _or _"no".

"_A little girl,__" __Poppy Pomfrey said, patting the sheets once more, __"__She was a girl.__"_

_Poppy nodded and stood up, she gave Ophelia one last look like she might say something, but then she left. _

_A little girl. _

—

_The final memory was the night that Severus was attacked._

_She was sitting with him, thinking about what he__'__d said__…__about Harry__'__s eyes._

"_Lily,__" __she kept whispering. Severus was sinking in and out of consciousness, she didn__'__t know if he could hear her._

"_Lily Pomfrey. Lily Snape. Lily__…__little girl Lily,__" __Ophelia whispered, hugging her knees to her chest, rocking slightly._

—

Severus and Ophelia lifted their heads out of the basin at the same time. There were tear tracks down Snape's cheeks.

"I want to be angry with you," Severus' choked on his words, "but how can I be?"

Ophelia nodded slowly.

"I would have told you but I…,"

"Thought I was a murderer," Severus smiled a grim half-smile, "I know."

He took Ophelia's hands in his own, cradling them like the child he didn't have.

"You would have named her Lily?" He inquired.

"Yeah," Ophelia shrugged, "Darcy if she'd been a boy."

Severus laughed.

"I finished that book. I liked it."

"Me too," Ophelia nestled her head back in Severus' shoulders, "Me too."

—

Harry had asked Severus and Ophelia to meet him and the others in the main courtyard.

Ophelia was dressed for the weather- the Spring air was still nippy up in Scotland, but a warm breeze came now and then, promising flowers and twittering birds. She had a floral dress on, and a large green Slytherin scarf- borrowed from Severus, who was wearing his usual teaching robes, now that he was out of his hospital gown.

They walked arm in arm, as if they were a normal couple on a normal stroll through the park.

"Harry? I-," Ophelia gasped. As they reached the edge of the courtyard, she found that it wasn't just her friends who greeted her. The courtyard was darkening as the sun met the edge of the sky. But there were little fairy light and lateens here and there, creating a romantic glow.

Everyone was there. Every member of the Order, the DA, the teaching staff, and even some villagers from Hogsmeade whom Ophelia recognized.

There were planters all along the the pavement, and many were kneeling in the dirt, planting flowers, catcti, herbs, and unrecognizable seeds.

"What is this?" Ophelia whispered.

Hermione and Ron approached. Hermione had a berry-coloured toque resting on her curls, and a rosy face. In her hands, she had two small blue orchids, waiting to be planted. Though Ron didn't have his arm around Hermione, he kept sneaking glances at her, and Ophelia couldn't help but smile. Ron had a wild tiger lily in his own hands.

"For my parents," Hermione said, as she knelt down and planted the flowers in an earthy bed.

"For Fred," Ron added, putting his right next to Hermione's.

Ophelia blinked, taking in what she was seeing. From behind her, someone cleared their throat.

Harry stood, hand-in-hand with Ginny. He had a white lily and a dark coloured succulent in his palms.

"For my parents," he explained, giving the plants a well-deserved home.

Luna planted a sunflower for her mother, Neville a pair of purple dahlias for his parents, and Hagrid even planted a little cactus for his eight-legged friend Aragog.

"These plants," Harry spoke up, addressing everyone, "represent all those we've lost…in this battle, in this war, and in others…Some are dead," he nodded sympathetically in the direction of Hannah Abbot, holding a rose for her late aunt, "others just lost…," he looked at Neville and Hermione.

"But…," Harry picked up a daisy and twiddled it with his thumbs, "all are remembered. We don't want the future students and staff of Hogwarts to forget all those who laid down their lives so that they could be safe. Isn't that right?"

Harry looked to Professor McGonagall, who dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief and nodded. She'd planted a stephanotis plant for Dumbledore- the white flowers glowing in the moonlight, which reminded Ophelia of the glimmer in his eyes.

Speaking of that glimmer, Ophelia couldn't help but notice that Aberforth Dumbledore had joined their ranks.

When Harry finished speaking, Ophelia knelt down next to the old man.

"Is that for Arianna?" Ophelia whispered gently. She nodded at the little cornflower plant.

"One for Arianna," Aberforth pointed at each flower the plant had produced, "one for my mother Kendra, one for my father, and…that one there," he pointed, "is for my son. He died years ago."

Ophelia clapped a comforting hand on Aberforth's shoulder.

"That's beautiful."

When Ophelia had down her rounds, paying respect to everyone's flower, she joined Severus again.

"Shall we plant our own?" Severus asked.

"I thought you'd never ask," Ophelia smiled, as Severus presented her with his choice- a purple peony for his mother.

"She never did anything wrong," Severus admitted, "I was just too angry at my father to see it."

Ophelia picked out some lavender for her mother- she'd like that. Practical and fresh. Next to it, she planted a fern, which swooped its leaves protectively over the lavender plant.

"For my father," Ophelia explained to an curious Severus, "who I never met. I don't know if he was a good man, or not, but I like to think he was."

"One more for you," Severus smiled. Ophelia tilted her head in inquiry.

She stood up, brushing the dirt off of her knees. Harry stood before her, with another white lily in his hands.

He didn't speak the words, and neither did she. But she smiled in gratitude, and planted it in her little family garden. The fern leaves hugged the lily tight.

"A lily for our Lily," Severus hugged Ophelia tight.

It was then, in the light of the lanterns, and the smell of earth, and the sound of laughter and tears, that Ophelia felt that she might yet survive.

**A/N: Okay there it is! I hope you enjoyed it! I worked really hard on this last chapter, so PLEASE let me know what you think! If you don't want to publicly review, you can always PM me. I LOVE talking to you guys. Your support is an immense impact on my life, you don't even know! There is going to be a short pause now as I work on the next story. But don't worry, it will happen!**


	14. Message Re: Sequel

Hey, check out the sequel to Showbiz!

It's called Drones, and you can either find it by going to my profile, or by visiting this link:

s/11613765/1/

(put "fanfiction . net in front of it)

Anyway, I'm looking forward to continuing this story and hearing more from my lovely readers, so read, review, suggest ideas, and share this story with your friends!

Thank you!


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